#austin butler fan fiction

[bartxnhood]

escort at the oscars | a.b

austin butler x fem!actress!reader

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

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

w/c: 3.1k

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

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

not proofread

requests open

Copyright © 2024 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“which movie are you nominated for?”

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

it felt like it happened overnight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i guess ill catch you later..”

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

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

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

no other reason.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and you didn’t need that kind of embarrassment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“see? clumsy.”

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

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

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

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

y/n l/n

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you follow suit, the ceremony officially begins.

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

wow.

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

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

the room explodes into applause and cheers from the guests.

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

tonight was going to be very long.

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

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

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

“austin butler!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

anticipation.

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

what if you didn’t win?

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

“y/n l/n! congratulations!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

oh boy.

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

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

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

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

he was so close.

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

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

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

thank god he found you when he did.

[cryingabtab]

Louder

Put Them On

Liar

Baby Boy

Surprise

[tommydarlings]

all good things come in threes | a.b

pairing: mean!dom!police!officer!austin x sub!reader

warnings: smut, dacryphilia, pussy slapping, chocking mentions of handprint’s, bondage, inappropriate use of that black; wide grid in a police car, inappropriate use of handcuffs, orgasm denial, veeeeery brief mention of cnc -> extended version!! (3.8k)

w/c: 2.2k

summary: After being pulled over — for speeding, by the same cop for two times already, you should have learned your lesson, right? Yeah… you didn’t — and now you've got to face the consequences.

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +20 works - including the continuation of this story!!!) <3 // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

Growing up with two older brothers, racing a normal car through the busy streets of California was normal and one of the best and most thrilling things for you.

But definitely not one of the smartest thing you’ve learned from your brothers.

Did you do it anyway? Knowing that you could get caught by a cop but ignoring it because of the adrenaline that it’s giving you? Of course.

So after already being stopped and pulled to the side by this blonde, tall cop — for two times, you should have already learned your lesson, right?

Yeah… no. You didn’t.

And now you have to face the blue flashing lights again for the third time in four months already.

“How could I be so dumb, god.” You mumbled quietly to yourself before the office knocked on your window, signalling you with his hand to roll it down and let him have a talk with you.

And there he was again, the blonde, tall, honestly very attractive police officer with a stern and not so happy gaze pointed towards your nervous facial expression.

“Well hello, y/n.” He said with a tilt of his head, smug grin painted on his clean face.

You furrowed your brows and cleared your throat before answering, “shouldn’t a police officer always address the driver by their last name, sir?”

His grin briefly fell while he changed his position, gulping as he balanced himself by with his arms on your door, eyes quickly shifting into the dark night sky before they came back to yours.

He cleared this throat aswell, “I think we saw each other already so many times that I can address you by your first name, don’t you think so y/n?” He told you deeply.

“But you don’t even have-”

“I don’t think that you are here in the position to tell me what to do, kid.” He swiftly interrupted you.

You quickly put your slightly nervous gaze away from his stern one, licking your lips.

“I'm not a kid, officer.” You told him before you crossed your arms. The visibly older man raised his brows as he saw you crossing your arms, basically asking you with his eyes if you're sure.

You gulped as soon as you caught him looking at the position of your arms and uncrossed them again, eyes now fixated at your steering wheel, mentally cursing yourself out.

“Fuck.” You mumbled under your breath, now slowly realising how fucked you actually are. The blonde officer briefly chuckled, “Yeah, that’s what I would say aswell if I would be in your position now.” He commented with a dirty grin, pleasingly rubbing the trouble's that you’ve got now in your face, not showing any kind of mercy.

In a quick motion you turned into his direction again and bit your lip, “Look, sir.” You started your apologetic statement as you slightly lifted your head to properly look at him, noticing how his position shifted again for whatever reason that you didn’t understand.

“I messed up again and I am aware of that and I am also aware of the consequences-”

“I actually do not think that you are aware of the consequences-”

“No, I-”

“Let me finish my sentence, alright?” Angrily tilting his head again before he went on while you closed your mouth this time. “I actually do not think that you are aware of the consequences or you wouldn’t have done it, little one.”

You furrowed your brows at the new nickname. You didn’t even knew his last name but I think that was the tiniest problem you're having right now.

“Now you can open that mouth of yours again and speak.” The office told you as he waited for your continuation, tiny grin on his face again.

You took a deep breath, “I am.” You quietly told him.

“Louder please, can’t understand you, kid.” You threw him an angry gaze at the childish nickname he invented for you before you went on,

“I am aware of the consequences but I-” then you decided to speak quieter again, slightly scared of the officers reaction, “I just don’t really care.” You gulped before looking at him.

He tilted his head and furrowed his brows at your choice of tone, “What was that?” He asked you sternly.

You bit your lip again.

“Stop doing that and repeat in a louder and clearer tone what you’ve said, c'mon I ain’t got all day for you.” He said in a deep and raspy tone, making it clear that he’s definitely slightly annoyed by your behaviour.

“I just don’t really care, sir.” You repeated in a louder tone, just like he asked, eyes now focused on the black steering wheel again, looking at it like it’s the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen, nervously waiting for his response.

But that never came, at least not like how you expected it.

He removed himself from your door, standing infront of your car with his arms crossed, eyes looking down at you through the open window, obviously flexing his biceps as he bit the inner side of his cheek.

“Out of the car.” He ordered in a rather quiet tone.

With once again, furrowed brows and a confused facial expression — you put your gaze away from the now not so interesting steering wheel anymore and raised your head to look at the tall and lengthy man infront of your car.

After he noticed that you won’t obey right away, he sighed and uncrossed his arms, opening your car door.

“Out of the car, I said.” The now not so happy looking Office told you sternly, definitely not playing any kind of trick on you.

Damn it, you didn’t knew that he would be so fed up with your shit.

“Okay.” You quietly obeyed, slowly and gently steeping out of your car, positioning yourself right infront of the pretty mad looking officer now.

He slammed the metal car door, eyes never leaving your visibly curious but also confused ones while you waited for him to speak up.

The officer that you still didn’t know the name of cleared his throat, fingers of his right hand playing with the handcuffs that are fixated on his dark blue pants.

“How about we get into my car and discuss your punishment there, alright?” He told you as he tilted his head into the direction of his police car. You briefly looked over into the direction of where his car was standing before you turned your head back again and looked up at him, nodding with your head.

You definitely didn’t wanted to get into even more trouble, so you had no other choice than to follow him.

After the two of you sat yourself down in the modern car — him on the driver’s seat while you were sitting on the passenger’s seat, fingers playing with the edges of your black skirt before you’ve noticed how he suddenly grabbed a little notebook and a pen, writing something down.

“W-What.” You began to stutter, “What are you doing, sir?” Looking over into his lap where he placed the notebook.

He furrowed his brows and looked over to you, “I'm writing you a ticket-”

You slightly gasped, “P-Please, no! I am so sorry officer, it won’t happen again I promise, please!” You quickly started rambling, voice small and a tiny bit unsure as you begged him with big, pleading eyes.

“It already happened two times, kid, tell me one reason why you wouldn’t do it a fourth time.” He commented after you finished your little rambling session.

You gulped again, “B-Because.” Quickly thinking of something smart to say to get rid of that dirty Ticket he wants to hand you, “Because I’ve learned my lesson now?” Saying it more like a question than a normal confident sentence.

The handsome blonde raised his brows, “Oh really? Did you?” He asked you in a serious way.

You quickly nodded, gulping as you did so, “Uhm, y-yeah, officer.” Sounding more unsure than ever.

This time, he didn’t commented anything, nothing. He also didn’t chuckle or smile, it almost look like he was thinking about something.

After a few seconds of slightly uncomfortable silence, he put the pen and the notebook away, sighing as he did so before he turned around and paid his entire attention to you. You still played with the edges of your skirt, briefly noticing how the officer's eyes suddenly shift down towards your thighs and moving fingers.

Ohhhhhh.

The blonde man cleared his throat before putting gaze back to yours, “Well, since I know your name Ms. Y/l/n, i think that it’s only fair when you know mine, am I right?” He asked you in a deep tone.

You gulped, nodding, “Uhm, y-yes, sir.” Brushing your hair back, “you're right.”

He nodded, “good.” Eyes fixated on your naked thighs again, noticing how you're playing with the edges of the short piece of clothing. “If you oh so badly don’t want that ticket, then let’s make a deal alright?” He said.

You furrowed brows, slightly tilting your head as you waited for him to offer you the deal.

The officer came a bit closer to you, leaning his body forward, pointer finger now slowly going up and down the skins of your thigh.

He bit his inner cheek, “You won’t get that little, ugly ticket if I am allowed to make you scream my name, either that or you won’t get out of the ticket, nor you’ll get to know my name.” The blonde man told you in a quiet tone, hand now coming closer to your thong, gently touching the soft material.

You opened your mouth but weren’t able to say anything, especially not when his lips brushed your delicate neck,

“What do you say, hmm?”

You gulped as his fingertips toyed with your thong, nodding after some seconds of enjoying his soft lips on your neck.

“Y-Yes please.” You said.

He slowly kissed your neck, “Good, then get in backseat, now.” Giving your thigh a small slap, leaving you and leaning his figure back in his seat.

You bit your lip before a very interesting and quite ridiculous idea popped into your head.

Instead of just opening the car door and leaving the car to get into the backseat, you turned around and crawled into the backseat, in a rather slow motion, making sure that he got a good and long view of your almost entirely bare ass.

“Fuck.” You heard him mumble under his breath while you sat yourself down onto the comfortable seats, big eyes now looking at him.

The tall man quickly brushed his hair back before he opened the car door and slammed it shut, opening your door and looking down at your neatly sitting figure on the backseat.

“You like to play around don’t you? You're that little brat that everybody excepts to be an obedient little girl but that’s exactly what you're not, am I right?” He muttered deeply whilst he got into the car and grabbed your neck, pulling your head forward and harshly colliding your lips with his.

You whimpered into his mouth as you heard the words, already growing extremely wet from his voice.

He sat himself down and put your body onto his lap, palms squeezing your ass through your black skirt while you glided your hands over his face and neck, pulling him even closer as you both moaned inbetween the messy kisses.

He groaned into your mouth as he noticed how you slowly started to rub yourself against his clothed hard on, only slightly grinding down onto him.

“F-Fucking hell.” Officer 'you still didn’t knew the name of' growled before his hands left your ass and removed your top. He licked his lips as he saw your breasts, palms already touching them in the perfect ways, making you throw your head back while he attacked your neck.

While he was busy kissing, biting and licking your neck, he removed one of his palms from your breast and freed his very visible erection.

As soon as you noticed that one of his palms left your breast, you looked down and saw his erection.

You’ve never seen something that big and wide, that’s for sure.

Right before you gasped at his size — he put your thong to the side and let his fingers slide through your wet folds, making you grip his dark blue police uniform.

“You really don’t want to have that ugly ticket, don’t you pretty girl? Already so wet for me.” He whispered as he entered your desperate pussy with his fingers, making you gasp once again.

He chuckled, “If you're already gasping now then I am not entirely sure if you're able to handle my cock, sweetness.” He told you before he retreated his fingers from your pussy, one hand now grabbing his big dick while the other one got a hold of your hip, steadily holding you.

“Sit down baby, c'mon.”

[austinswhitewolf]

Watching You

Hello everyone!! I heard this song the other day and this idea hasn't left me since. So I had to put it down and @klizzie93 helped. Thank you lovely! The thought of how great of a dad Austin will be makes my heart melt. I am always open for requests if anyone has any.

You and Austin had been together for eight years now. Four years ago, you had the wedding of your dreams, beautiful, quiet, intimate and on the beach. Only family and very close friends were in attendance to celebrate with you. 

It was maybe a half year later that you had surprised him with a little Elvis onesie. He had been over the moon, tears of joy falling down his face as he spun you around and couldn’t stop holding you. The next week, whenever he was within arms reach, he was always touching you in some way shape or form. As your belly grew, he started to bring home little outfits and stuffed animals. When you were three months, the both of you had decided to start decorating the nursery so it wouldn’t need to be done near the end of your pregnancy. It had been hard, but you were able to keep it from the public until you announced it when you were five months along. It was partly thanks to it being winter when you first were starting to show. The announcement was of your belly with his hands over it, and your hands over his. When you had the gender reveal and found out you were having a little boy, you were over the moon, a little Austin running around. As the months rolled by, you were getting more antsy, sore and finding it hard to get comfortable. There were nights you had trouble sleeping as the little one would not settle down for very long. Or kept kicking your bladder making you jump up and race to the bathroom. As your due date rolled around, Austin had made sure to have the month leading up to your due date off as well as nothing set in stone for work. The few days before you went into labor, you were crabby and couldn’t control your emotions very well. Austin, god bless the man, was there the entire time, getting you whatever you needed, helping you stand up or sit down, rubbing your back gently to help with pain. And he never once let anything you said go to heart. When your water broke, you were laying in bed, trying to get some sleep but your lower back was sore and you could not get comfortable. It was in the middle of the night when you went to shift to your other side that you felt your water break. It took you a few moments to realize what had just happened. When you grabbed Austin’s arm, he cracked his eyes open and the look on your face had him shooting up in bed.

The moment you told him it was time, he jumped out of bed, threw on a pair of joggers, a t-shirt and sweatshirt before helping you up out of bed, getting you into something dry and comfortable before he grabbed the go bag you had gotten ready last week. He helped you down the stairs and to the kitchen, where he set the bag on the island while he proceeded to race around looking for his phone, keys and wallet. Had this been any other situation, you would find it adorable at how flustered he was. You shuffled to the counter near the doorway to the mudroom, grabbed his keys and wallet and shouted to Austin when you heard him bound back up the stairs, that his phone was on the dresser. It was six hours later that little Alexander James Butler came into the world. You didn’t know you could love him any more than you did when he was in your belly but you were wrong. Austin and you were in awe at how beautiful he was, how tiny his fingers were. A week after you had gotten home, you posted a photo of Alexx’s little hand wrapped around Austin’s little finger. The first month took a bit of figuring things out before you both had a system figured out. 

As the weeks turned into months and firsts with Alexx passed by, you couldn’t help dressing him up like his daddy.

When Austin’s birthday rolled around, you pulled out a box you had been very sneaky in hiding, and it took a bit to actually make the gift happen. When he opened it, it was a new carhartt jacket and tucked underneath was a perfectly matching miniature one for Alexx. The amount of pure adorableness that filled the house when Austin put the jacket on and then slid Alexx into his for a few photos, made your heart melt. Alexx’s first word was ‘mama’ but it wasn’t long before he followed it with ‘dada’. When Alexx had started to hold onto furniture to take a few steps, Austin was always hovering, worried about him falling and hitting his head. Alexx was 11 months old, he took his first unassisted steps from the middle of the room, where he had been playing with a few toys, over to Austin. The video call Austin was on with his publicist and manager was quickly ended and he spent the rest of the afternoon encouraging Alexx to walk between you and him. It was around then that he moved from single words to short sentences. He really was a mini me to Austin, always wanting to do what he was doing, wear what he was wearing. You never got upset over this. It was something that you had always dreamed of. When Alexx turned one, you had a big party with both your family and Austin’s as well as a few select friends. When Austin went back to work, he did filming where he could be home each night. Once Alexx was old enough you started to travel with Austin so he wouldn’t be away from the two of you for long. Your job was one you could easily do remotely from anywhere as long as you had internet, and that wasn’t ever an issue. It was during filming of a movie in Canada, that the three of you decided to head to a local park. With it being a little chilly out, you had Alexx bundled up in his carhartt jacket that matched Austins, and a little knit hat. You had made sure to get a new matching jacket everytime Alexx grew out of the current one. The three of you were on a blanket on the grass, you and Austin were just relaxing as it was a full day off for him. Lunch had been eaten a while ago and now Alexx was playing with a few of his dinosaurs. You were starting to doze off in the warmth of the sun when you heard Alexx say ‘Shit’ causing you to shoot up and look at him with wide eyes. “What did you just say Alexx?” You could not believe it, looking over at Austin who’s eyes were also wide. “Shit” He said, not knowing why you were looking at him like that. “That’s a bad word. Where did you hear that word, Alexander!?” You lifted him up and stood him between your legs, looking into blue eyes that were a mirror image of your husband’s. “Daddy said it yesterday. I want to be like him! We match!” The innocence in his voice, had you not been so shocked, would have been adorable. But when the words registered, your head slowly turned to look at Austin. He was biting his lip to keep from laughing. When he saw the look on your face, he couldn’t hold it in anymore, the laughter bubbling out. “Austin Robert Butler! What… When… Why did he hear you say that?” “I was on the phone with Kate, talking about the publicity circuit that I’m going to have to start after this wraps up here. I smashed my toe on the corner of the dresser, honestly, I thought he was sleeping.” 

You shook your head at him and rolled your eyes. Of course, you knew this was bound to happen some time, just not this soon. Alexx was always watching everything Austin did and was trying to copy him and do what he was doing. When Austin would play his guitar, Alexx had to pull his little one out and play with him. When Austin would cook, he had to be there helping. “I swear, one day, you will be sorry. He is going to be causing trouble like you. And breaking hearts before you know it.” The look on Austin’s face at those words had you laughing now. “It’s Kismet Aus.” You smiled, kissing him on the cheek before turning back to Alexx. “No more using that word okay baby? There are some words that are bad and that is one of them.” Gently pulling the knit cap off his little head that was crooked, you smoothed his hair down before placing it back on straight. You then pulled the zipper back up that had started to slide down. “Daddy! Lets slide!” Alexx shouted, holding his arms out to Austin, his fists clenching closed and back open over and over. You just rolled your eyes in loving exasperation. Austin stood up, leaning down to scoop Alexx up into his arms before giving you a kiss quickly. And true to form, Alexx leaned out of Austin’s arms to kiss you on the cheek. A smile broke on your face as he turned and carried Alexx towards the large playground set. You pulled your phone out and took a few photos of the two of them before just happily lounging back and watching them interact. The thought about having another little one had been playing around your mind for the last few months. You would have to bring it up to Austin soon. The thought of him having two little ones in his arms just melted your heart even more. About an hour later, Alexx was getting fussy and both you and Austin knew he would need to be put down for his nap very soon. So the decision to head home was made. You gathered the blanket and bag that you brought lunch in since Alexx was squirming in Austin’s arms. “Daddy… I don’t want to leave!” He whined, putting on the best puppy eyes he could. Your husband looked at you for a moment. Hell, was this what you felt every time he gave you that look? “Buddy, I’m getting tired. Don’t you want to go home, get into comfortable pjs and curl up with me and mom for a nap? I know that’s what I want to do.” Austin said, fingers of his free hand tickling your son’s sides gently. A squeal left little lips and eyes crinkled up with joy. “Stopp Daddy!!” He squirmed even more before grabbing Austin’s hood and turning into his shoulder more. With a smile, the three of you started back to the vehicle. “Movie also?” “Sure Bubbs. Whatever movie you want.” You said, knowing he would be out like a light within the first five minutes of the movie. When you got to the vehicle, Austin made quick work of buckling Alexx into his car seat while you put the blanket and bag in the back. It wasn’t a long drive back to the apartment you were renting, but by the time Austin parked and turned the car off, Alexx was asleep. While walking into the apartment, he woke up and was groggy. Small fists rubbing at his glazed blue eyes. “Daddy, mommy, snuggle and movie now?” He asked, and oh my word, your heart melted. “Yeah, lets get changed while Daddy gets everything set up okay?” You held your arms out to take your son. He slowly leaned over towards you and you plucked him from Austin’s arms. When you went and let him pick out what he wanted to wear, Austin moved into your room, pulled the covers of the bed back and grabbed the remote for the tv, and Alexx’s blanket, before changing into a set of sleepwear that you had all gotten together on a recent shopping trip. And of course when you walked in, Alexx had the same set on. “Mommy! You need to match!” Alexx pointed to Aus as you set him down on the big bed. “Okay, I’ll go get into mine Bubbs.” 

Once you had changed also, brushed your hair out and walked back into the bedroom, a huge smile filled your face. Austin was laying on his side of the bed on his back. Alexx was lying curled against his side, little fist clenching his blanket that he had bundled up between him and Austin’s side. If only you didn’t leave your phone in the kitchen. Making your way over to the bed, you laid down on your side, arm draping over Alexx and Austin’s stomach. “We are watching Land Before Time Mommy!” Alexx said, smiling at you and snuggling down even more between the two of you. “Oooooh. That’s a good one!” You responded with a kiss to his cheek. You trailed your fingers over his fluffy golden hair while Austin started the movie. When Little Foot met Cera for the first time, you glanced down and saw Alexx sound asleep. That didn’t surprise you at all, but what did was seeing Austin sound asleep as well. Smiling, you reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair off his forehead. This was a moment you never wanted to leave. Warm, curled up with your two boys and no worries at all. 

[austinbutlerslovers]

Don’t Choke

Label Mature 18+

Summary You want to satisfy Austin by going down on him so badly —there’s just one thing…he’s huge.

🔗 Masterlist

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Austin guiding you through a new experience• sweet talk • dirty talk• edging •stubborn reader •inexperienced reader • he talks you though it • mild angst• size kink •sloppy BJ • Austin’s praises •climax denial• p in v on a couch • orgasms•cream pie•aftercare

Don’t Choke

It’s late at night, and you’re laying up on Austin’s chest in the living room.

The decor is sleek yet warm, his furniture in deep hues, as a floor-to-ceiling screen flashes from the movie he’s chosen for the night.

But none of it matters—not the luxurious space, not even East of Eden playing on screen.

All you can focus on is Austin laying beneath you, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles along your back.

He’s utterly transfixed on the film, his full lips parting slightly as he rests a hand lazily behind his head, his shirt riding up just enough to tease you.

You know you should focus on the movie—he’s obsessed with it after all—but you can’t help yourself.

Looking at him has become far more interesting.

Every detail of him is magnetic, the intensity of his blue eyes locked on the screen, the softness of his lips with each breath, the way his chest rises and falls steadily beneath you.

He’s irresistible, and your thoughts drift away feeling the warmth of your body rising as you lay against him.

Your fingers trail down his chest, brushing over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of him underneath.

You shift slightly, parting your leg over his waist, caressing your foot along his calf in a slow testing way.

His breath catches for a fraction of a second, a tiny shift in his focus, but his eyes remain locked on the screen.

Encouraged, you let your fingers trail lower, grazing the edge of his waistband.

“Baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing as he finally glances down at you.

The slight smirk on his lips telling you he’s been aware of your intentions all along.

“You’re not as sneaky as you think.” He grins.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper innocently, sliding your hand under his shirt.

His skin is warm and smooth beneath your touch, and as you lower down, pressing soft kisses across along his chest, you push his shirt higher.

He doesn’t stop you, instead, his hand moves to join the other behind his head, his muscles flexing slightly as you trail kisses down his stomach.

“Baby…” he says again his voice a soft warning as you kiss along his waistline, but there’s no denying the way his body responds—his arousal pressing hard against his jeans.

“I just want to make you feel good,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his V-line, fingers tracing the edge of his hips.

He hums softly, his hand descending to stroke your hair as he leans back against the couch, his breathing growing heavier. “You always do, sweetheart,” he praises, his voice softening as he surrender to your touch.

For weeks, you’ve been fixated on this—finally sucking his cock—but every time you try, he stops you, shaking his head with that teasing smirk before kissing you senseless.

He’s always insistent on satisfying you first, his tongue a masterwork of precision and heat, flicking against you with teasing strokes, tracing every fold before dipping inside, coaxing shuddering gasps from your lips.

He’s amazing at it—relentless even—his lips sucking at your clit, pulling harder as his tongue swirls in tight, deliberate circles, unraveling you bit by bit. His hands always pin your thighs wide, holding you open as he works you over until your mind’s too clouded to hold a single thought.

He worships eating your pussy —But tonight… you’re not letting him stop you from going down on him in return.

You tug down his waistband, lips brushing along his pubic line as your hand glides to his zipper, your heart pounding in anticipation for what you really want.

The moment you slide the zipper down, he snaps back to awareness, sucking in a sharp breath, his body tensing beneath you as he sits up.

“Baby come here,” he smirks, his hands catching your wrists before you can go further. “What are you doing hm?” he smiles, releasing your wrists pulling you to him as his lips find yours.

He kisses you deeply your thoughts scattering, but with your wrists free, you slide your hand back to his boxers, feeling his hardness straining against the thin fabric.

You pull back, your eyes locking onto his, brimming with determination. “I want to take care of you tonight,” you confess, fingers curling around his cock through the fabric, giving it a light, teasing squeeze.

“Baby,” he exhales, his entire body stiffening as he fights to stay in control. “It’s not that I don’t want it,” he mutters under his breath, teetering on the edge of surrender. Then, more firmly he switches back, “No let me take care of you ,” he whispers, kissing you again, deeper this time.

But he’s already too hard beneath your touch to betray himself, and you’re not about to let him distract his way out of this time.

Your fingers slide into his waistband, tugging his boxers down just enough to release his hard cock as it springs out thick and heavy in his lap.

He pulls back from the kiss, his eyes flickering between your face and your hands.

“Baby,” he swallows hard, his voice low and strained as he sees you’re not giving up. “It’s gonna be different when it’s in your mouth,” he explains, his gaze filled with a mix of lust and concern.

“Let me try,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss along his jaw, your lips lingering there. “I want to try, Austin.” You request, your tone laced with unyielding stubbornness in every word.

He exhales shakily, his jaw flexing under your lips. Fighting it hard, but when you wrap your hand around his cock, sliding up and down, squeezing the tip, his whole body jerks.

He locks eyes with yours, the depths of his blue gaze piercing as he lets out a shuddering breath.

Pleased, you grin, stroking him harder, slower, teasing him as you watch him unravel. “You still want to stop me?” you grin.

He groans, his grip tightening on your hips. “Your impossible,” he pants, and you smile, kissing down his neck as you ease yourself off his lap.

He shifts as you sink to your knees between his legs, his breath quickening, torn between stopping you and pulling you closer.

His fingers brush through your hair, gentle yet firm, cradling the back of your head, his breathing slow and measured as he looks down at you.

“You’ve never done this before, baby?” he asks softly, his voice thick with something deeper than lust.

You shake your head, smiling under his gaze, thrilled your first time will be with him.

He exhales through his mouth, his fingers tightening slightly in your hair. “You still don’t have to, sweetheart. You know that, right?”

“I want to,” you whisper, your fingers caressing his thighs. “With you.”

Austin groans low in his throat, his jaw flexing as he fights to hold himself together. “Fuck, baby… you’re gonna kill me,” he confesses, his voice rough with need.

He shifts, spreading his legs wider to give you more space, one hand threading into your hair while the other wraps around the base of his cock, thick and hard in his grip as he holds it steady for you.

“Start slow,” he instructs, his voice dropping lower, raspier. “Kiss the tip…get used to the feel of it.”

You nod, a thrill surging through you as you lean in, pressing soft, slow kisses on the swollen tip. It twitches against your lips, precum smearing across them, as his breath catches, his fingers tightening in your hair.

“That’s so good..,” he breathes, his voice tight and strained. “Now… open your mouth for me, sweetheart.”

You part your lips, letting his cock slide inside, warm and heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of him flooding your senses. Austin groans, his head tilting back slightly, his grip in your hair tightening.

“Yeah.. like that,” he rasps, his thumb brushing along your cheek. “Now, use your tongue… swirl it around the tip—fuck—yeah…just like that, baby.” He softly praises.

His reactions ignite a rush of heat in you, spurring you on as you hollow your cheeks, sucking lightly as you feel the way he throbs against your tongue, his whole body jerking as his breath stutters in his chest.

“Such a… fast learner baby,” he praises, his voice breaking with raw desire.

You hum around him with pride, and the vibration make him twitch in your mouth, his thighs tensing under your hands. You take more, inch by inch, feeling the stretch, feeling the weight of his cock filling your mouth.

Austin lets out a deep, shuddering breath, his fingers tightening in your hair, his other hand squeezing the base of his cock, veins bulging under his grip.

“Slower, baby,” he warns, his voice wrecked hearing your whimpering sounds. “Don’t push too fast—just—fuck—baby just breathe through your nose.” He encourages as you begin to struggle.

You try, you really do, but as he hits the back of your throat repeatedly your reflexes kick in. Your throat spasms, a wet, choked gag escaping as spit floods your mouth, dripping past your lips and onto his fingers, coating them in a slick mess.

You pull back a little, gasping for air, a thick string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to his glistening cock and when you look up his blue eyes are blown wide and dark.

“Fuck,” he curses sharply, taking in your messy face—lips swollen and red, spit-smeared with tears streaking down your cheeks. “Baby,” he groans, his hand cupping your jaw, thumb wiping at the tears and drool. “You wanna stop?” His asks his voice strained, like it’s causing him pain to even ask.

You shake your head, determination blazing in your eyes. “No,” you rasp, voice hoarse and raw. “Tell me what to do.”

Austin groans, tipping his head back, chest heaving. “Fuck, baby… okay. Take a deep breath, relax your throat for me….”

His hands cradle your face now, thumbs stroking your wet cheeks as he gazes down at you, his eyes heavily lidded in a haze of lust.

He feeds his cock back into your mouth slowly, the head slick and hot against your tongue as you moan loving the feeling.

You take him as deep as you can, forcing your jaw to relax, forcing your throat to soften, letting his voice guide you. “That’s it, baby,” he whispers, his tone gentle but filled with need.

“Just like that—open up for me, let me feel you.” He says, pressing his thumbs lightly against your cheeks, guiding you as you ease him deeper in your mouth, the size of his cock stretching your lips apart.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he coaxes, his own breath catching as you obey, drawing air through your nose, steadying yourself. “Good girl—fuck, you’re so perfect. Take it slow.” He says and you do as he says, holding him deep, your tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock, feeling it throb.

You start sucking slow and steady, lips sealed tight around him as you slide up his length, then ease back down, taking him in a slow rhythm.

Your mouth works him gently, tongue tracing the thick vein pulsing beneath his skin, swirling softly around the sensitive tip before sinking down again.

The wet heat of your mouth overtakes him, each measured pull drawing a slick, obscene sound that mingles with his ragged breathing.

Your hands grip his thighs, nails digging in slightly as you focus on pleasing him, spurred by the way his voice trembles.

“Need you to …go faster for me baby,” he rasps, his fingers tightening in your hair. “Up and down—nice and…easy ” he urges and your lips slide along his length, sucking harder as you pull back and sink down, following his rhythm.

Austin groans, a soft, guttural sound, and you feel the tension coiling in his body, his thighs flexing under your palms.

“Fuck, yes—just like that,” he praises, his voice dropping lower, rougher, as you bob your head, taking him deeper each time.

“Look at me, baby,” he urges, and you flick your eyes up to meet his, locking onto his stormy blue gaze wild and desperate.

“So fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he praises, and the raw edge in his words makes your core clench as you moan.

You let his filthy praise wash over you, pushing yourself to take him even further until your throat tightens around him.

His sounds change—higher, softer, more needy—your core throbbing hearing the whimpers and broken moans falling from his lips— sounds you’ve never heard from him before.

“Baby—fuck, don’t stop,” he chokes out, his hips twitching as he fights to stay in control, his sounds changing into something primal and unrestrained as he teeters on the edge.

His eyes never leave yours, his grip in your hair firm, guiding you, urging you deeper, completely lost in the way you’re taking him.

Your eyes flutter closed as they start to water, the sensation overwhelming you, taking you under.

“Look at me, baby,” he pants, his voice barely a whisper, rough with desperation. “Don’t look away… I want to see those pretty eyes while you do this for me.”

You force your gaze up to meet his, your eyes glassy and brimming, tears spilling over in streaks down your cheeks. The instant he sees them his cock twitches hard in your mouth sending a pulse of heat through you.

Drool spills past your lips as you moan, coating your chin and dripping down onto his thighs, but Austin doesn’t even care, his stare is dark and reverent taking in every detail of you.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he groans, his voice cracking as he watches you whimper around him. “So pretty like this… making such a fucking mess on me.”

His thighs tense beneath your palms, his stomach flexing every time you take him deeper, your throat squeezing around him just right.

“Fuck, baby, you’re… shit, you’re gonna make me come,” he gasps, his voice shaking. “So warm—so good—don’t stop, sweetheart, please don’t stop—”

The sounds as he begins thrusting back into your mouth are obscene—wet and slick, every motion creating a sinful sloshing noise that only makes the throbbing pressure between your legs worse.

You clench around nothing, body flushed, needing more than just the heat of him in your mouth.

He loses control his hips jerking, his grip tightening in your hair guiding you as he moves faster—sliding deeper, making you gag, making your throat tighten hard as you retch around him eyes rolling up.

“Baby, fuck—”

Austin pulls you off of him as you gasp for air, your chest heaving as you see his cock throbbing, slick and angry red from your efforts.

You shudder holding his thighs your whole body trembling from the strain as spit drips from your swollen lips, your breaths tearing out in harsh, ragged gasps.

“Oh, baby…” Austin says, soothing you as he tilts your chin up with his fingers. “You okay? Let me see you, sweetheart.”

Tears stream down your cheeks as you blink up at him, your swollen lips parted, eyes dazed out of your mind wrecked from the intensity of it all.

“Shh, I got you,” he coos, ripping his shirt over his head in one swift motion. He uses it to clean the mess on your face—clearing the spit and tears on your flushed skin. “I made you work too hard—Damn, baby, you’re shaking…” he says with concern.

His hands stay on you, steady and warm, as he gently lifts you onto the couch. His touch is careful, almost worshipful, like you’re something fragile and priceless in his grip.

You’re still trembling, limbs loose and heavy, completely undone—your throat raw, your core pulsing with the aftershocks of effort.

His thumbs swipe over your cheeks, brushing away fresh tears as he presses soft, lingering kisses to your forehead. “You did so well, baby,” he praises, his voice thick and hushed, laced with something deep and aching. “Did so fucking good for me…”

He eases you back against the leather, hovering over you, his fingers threading through your hair, tucking damp, sweaty strands behind your ears.

“You okay?” he asks, and you smile as you nod. His hand slides down, tracing the curve of your waist, fingers digging into your skin just enough to ground you as your body shivers beneath him.

Your eyes drift to his cock—still hard, glistening with your saliva, the tip flushed a deep, needy red, a bead of precum leaking out.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he breathes, drawing your gaze back to his and he kisses you slowly, softly, whispering against your lips, “Made such a mess, didn’t you?”

You nod smiling as he cups your cheek, his thumb dragging over your puffy lips before pressing another tender kiss there.

“Did you like letting me hear those pretty little sounds while you made a mess on my cock?” he murmurs, his fingers trailing down your throat, grazing your collarbone.

“..I liked it,” you finally speak, your voice a soft, shaky whisper, breaking the haze with quiet certainty.

“Bet you’re soaked, huh?” he whispers, smooth and knowing, as his fingertips tease the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your hips.

“Mm—hm,” he hums in approval, sliding your panties down, revealing the slick, glistening heat between your thighs.

His hands move to your shirt sliding it off with a slow, deliberate pull. Then he shifts slightly, tugging his jeans down his thighs, revealing his boxers —soaked through the crotch from your messy attempt, his cock thick and heavy, still flushed a deep angry red, slicked with saliva from your earlier efforts.

“I told you it was gonna be too much, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a husky blend of teasing and amusement as he glances back at you. “But you’re just so stubborn.” He grins, his expression mirroring the defiant smile on your own.

“I wanted to try,” you whisper, your voice soft but firm.

“I know,” he smiles, a warm edge to his tone as he shifts closer settling on top of you, his weight holding you in place, your eyes fluttering as he lines himself up.

“So pretty like this,” he praises, his cock brushing your entrance, teasing the slick sensitive wetness. “All soft and sweet, finally letting me take care of you…”

A quiet whimper slips from your lips as he pushes in slowly, your walls tightening around his cock as your thighs clench instinctively around his hips.

His cock stretches you open, filling you deep as it settles heavy inside, a delicious pressure that draws a moan of pleasure from your lips.

His weight presses down over you, grounding you as he places soft, lingering kisses along your jaw.

“Let me feel how much you need me,” he whispers softly, his hand sliding lower, fingers splaying across your hips as his lips brush yours.

He starts moving, hips rolling with a steady, deep rhythm, each thrust dragging his cock along your walls. You feel the heat of him, the way he fits so perfectly, the slick slide of him pulling out only to sink back in deeper.

Your hands find his back, nails grazing into his skin as the pleasure coiling low and tight in your core as you begin to moan.

Austin’s eyes stay locked on yours—watching you, taking in every reaction of your pleasure. His thrusts deepen, hips snapping with force, the wet, rhythmic slap of him driving into you filling the room.

Your back arches, as your mind scatters under the intensity. Your breaths turn ragged, chest heaving, your eyes hazy, half-lidded with ecstasy as whimpers escape your lips.

“So wrecked for me,” he praises, his voice rough with adoration, watching you completely undone beneath him.

You can’t form words, just soft, broken sounds escaping in a daze—lost in the way he’s unraveling you.

His hips shift, angling just right, and suddenly he’s hitting that spot inside, the one that makes your whole body jolt. Your nails dig into his back, clawing harder, leaving red trails as you arch beneath him, whimpering helplessly.

He groans at the sting, the sound vibrating against your lips as he presses his forehead to yours. “Fuck, I love you,” he rasps, his voice filled with pure devotion, his breaths mingling with your own.

He thrusts faster, relentless now, chasing the edge for you, his cock slamming into that sweet spot over and over. The pressure coils fighter and tighter, your walls fluttering around him, clenching down as the heat surges to a breaking point.

Your orgasm hits sudden and blinding, a sharp, desperate cry tearing from your throat as your body seizes, thighs trembling violently.

Your inner walls grip him tight, pulsing in waves as the pleasure ripples through you, soaking him in your release. He feels the wet heat flooding around his cock and it shatters his restraint completely.

“Fuck, baby—” he breathes, driving into you harder, faster, his hips thrusting with a primal edge. Each thrust slams into that spot, drawing out your climax, your body shaking beneath him as you claw at his shoulders.

You hold him tighter, his eyes finally squeezing shut as he lets out a guttural groan. He comes inside you—spilling in thick hot streams flooding your core, his cock pulsing as he empties himself deep inside.

The wet heat of his release mixes with your own, slicking your walls, seeping out around him with every relentless thrust.

Your whimpers turn to gasps, feeling your release, dripping down your thighs in sticky trails as he pushes you through it, unyielding, until you’re nothing but a trembling, mess beneath him.

He slows only when your shudders fade, his lips brushing yours in a soft reverent kiss, his chest heaving as he watches you come down, his eyes still locked on your wrecked, blissful face.

He shifts closer, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, his voice a low, gravelly murmur against your skin. “Fuck, baby, that was the hottest, messiest thing I’ve ever experienced,” he says, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

You let out a breathless laugh, still hazy from the high, shaking your head. “Austin, I was terrible,” you admit, your voice hoarse from exertion as your fingers trail affectionately through his hair.

He slowly pulls back just enough to look at you, his grin turning mischievous. “Terrible? Baby, that was perfect,” he says trailing his fingers through your hair in return, then he leans placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“Give me five minutes, and I’ll have you making a perfect mess all over me again,” he smiles again, his voice a low, teasing promise.

END 👄

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me list

@purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @psycheetamore @soft-mama-reads @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @dunevitani @unicoo @gyratingpresley @thejoywillburnoutthepain @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @stars-remain2 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @missjadesticsreblog @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @skulliecadaver-blog @jjubilee-fluff

[movingmusically]

Good Girl

Synopsis:

A teasing comment in an interview changes everything. The internet notices. Austin notices. And when he offers to take control, to take care of you—you realise you want him to.

Word Count: 11.4k

Masterlist

The press tour had been a whirlwind—early mornings, long flights, endless interviews with the same handful of questions, just worded differently each time. But honestly? You didn’t mind.

For one, you were ridiculously proud of the movie. It had been the kind of project actors dream about—the perfect mix of challenge and chemistry, the kind of story that stuck with people.

And two, it had given you Austin. You’d spent months circling each other on set, tension building until pretending wasn’t an option anymore. By the time filming wrapped, you were his, and he was yours. Eight months later, nothing had changed.

The world had caught on quickly. You weren’t exactly hiding, but you weren’t shouting from the rooftops either. Still, between red carpet glances, the way Austin never quite kept his hands off you, and the way you smiled at him like he’d hung the damn moon—people knew.

Which was why, when the two of you sat down for another round of press, it was business as usual. You sat next to him, legs crossed, holding your microphone loosely while Austin lounged in his chair, one ankle resting over his knee, his arm draped casually over the backrest as he leaned in to speak. Across from you, the interviewer, Josh, was flipping through his notes, clearly enjoying himself.

“So, were you guys rebels growing up? Did you ever get into trouble? Or were you good kids?”

Austin let out a small chuckle, tilting his head as he thought about it. “I feel like I was a fairly obedient, good boy, yeah.”

Josh’s brows lifted in amusement. “Really? You never got into trouble?”

Austin shook his head, shrugging. “Not really. My biggest thing was that as soon as somebody told me to do something, I wanted to do the opposite. Like, I liked cleaning my room, but the second my parents told me to do it? Didn’t wanna do it anymore.”

Josh nodded. “Ah, classic.”

“But I never snuck out or anything. I also didn’t have to because my parents were really cool. My mom always said if I told her everything, she’d support me, give me her opinion, but she never ruled with an iron fist.”

Josh hummed in approval before turning to you. “And you, Y/N? Would your parents say the same?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you said without hesitation, smiling. “I was the goodest girl. Never in trouble, always doing what I was told. If someone gave me instructions, I followed them exactly.”

Josh chuckled, nodding along. Beside you, Austin shifted in his seat, his hand flexing where it rested on his knee, but you barely noticed.

“I mean, I never tested boundaries,” you continued. “If you told me to sit somewhere and not move, I’d stay there until you came back. Even if it was hours later. I was just like that—I listened, I followed directions, I never needed to be told twice.”

Josh let out a slightly strangled laugh. Austin coughed into his fist.

You frowned at their reactions but kept going.

“I always liked knowing what I was supposed to do. Like, rules? Loved them. Structure? The best. I never questioned authority, I just wanted to please people. Like, making my parents proud? That was the best feeling in the world. I thrived off it. Just tell me what you expect, and I’ll do my absolute best to be perfect.”

Josh made a weird noise that sounded like half a laugh, half a choke. Austin pressed his lips together, eyes slightly wider than before.

“…What?” you asked, blinking between them.

Josh coughed. “No, nothing, that’s, uh—very… admirable.”

Austin nodded, a little too quickly. “Yeah. Very admirable.”

The conversation moved on, the interview wrapped up. That night, you and Austin didn’t think much about it. It had been just another stop on the press tour, blending into the dozens of others you’d done over the past few weeks.

It wasn’t until the following week that everything changed.

You were in the middle of a quiet morning—coffee, a slow start, a rare moment of peace before another packed day—when your phone buzzed.

Emma: LMFAOOOOO

You frowned at the screen, confused.

You: What??

Emma: Sis. You broke the internet and I don’t think you even know why.

A pit of mild concern settled in your stomach. You glanced up from your phone. “Babe?”

Austin hummed, flipping a page in the book he was reading. “Yeah?”

“Emma’s saying I broke the internet.”

Austin’s eyes flicked up, brow furrowing slightly. “Why?”

Your stomach tightened slightly, but before you could respond, another message popped up.

Emma: Check Twitter. Actually, no. Here. Let me do the work for you.

A flood of links followed.

You hesitated, fingers hovering over your phone before clicking the first one. The moment the words registered, your stomach dropped.

@randomuser1: THE INTERVIEW JUST AIRED AND I SWEAR TO GOD Y/N DOESN’T KNOW. AUSTIN KNEW. JOSH KNEW. THE INTERNET KNOWS. BUT SHE DOESN’T KNOW.

@subtextqueen: Y/N: “I was the goodest girl, I’d sit still for hours if you told me to.” Austin, gripping the armrest of his chair: deep breath. Josh, short-circuiting: nervous laughter. THE WORLD: screaming into the void

@smutficreader69: NO BECAUSE THIS IS THE FUNNIEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN. SHE JUST OUTED HERSELF AS THE MOST SUBBY SUB EVER WITHOUT EVEN REALISING IT AND AUSTIN IS TRYING SO HARD NOT TO LOSE HIS MIND ON CAMERA

You froze, eyes locked on the screen. “Oh my God.”

Austin, finally curious, set his book down and leaned over your shoulder. “…What?”

You whipped around to look at him, wide-eyed. “The internet thinks I—” You stopped, pressing your lips together, then groaned. “Oh my God.”

Austin squinted at the screen, scanning the tweets. It took him all of two seconds before he burst out laughing.

Like, actual, full-body laughter.

You smacked his arm. “Austin!”

He barely even registered it, leaning back, wheezing. “Baby…” he managed between laughs. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t know!” you insisted, heat creeping up your neck.

“I know,” he said, grinning. “That’s what makes it so good.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I can’t believe I said all of that on camera.”

Austin wrapped an arm around you, still chuckling. “Hey,” he murmured, voice softer now. “It’s not a bad thing.”

You exhaled, peeking at him. “I just didn’t realise.”

His thumb traced slow circles over your knuckles, his expression still amused but softer now, more thoughtful. “Have you ever thought about it?”

You frowned, still feeling the heat in your face from the absolute chaos happening online. “About what?”

He tilted his head slightly, watching you. “About… what they’re saying.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “No. Not like that. I mean, I knew I was a rule-follower, but I never thought—” You gestured vaguely at your phone, which was still lighting up with notifications. “I never thought it meant anything.”

Austin hummed, his fingers still gently stroking the back of your hand. “It makes sense, though.”

You gave him a look. “Does it?”

He chuckled. “Baby, you do like rules. You like knowing what’s expected. You like making people happy.”

You exhaled, tilting your head back against the couch. “I mean… yeah. That’s just how I’ve always been.”

He smiled, his fingers tracing higher, skimming your wrist. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Your stomach fluttered at the way his voice dropped slightly, just enough to make you aware of it.

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. “You’ve never brought this up before.”

“I didn’t wanna assume,” he admitted. “And I didn’t think it really mattered. But… watching you say all that? Baby, I was losing my mind.”

You flushed. “Austin.”

“What?” His grin was boyish, teasing, but his fingers on your wrist were not. “You have no idea how much I wanted to take you out of that interview and—”

You slapped a hand over his mouth, your whole body going warm. “Oh my God.”

His laughter rumbled against your palm before you let him go, sinking further into the couch. He watched you for a moment, his teasing expression shifting into something more serious, more curious.

“Have you ever wanted that?” he asked, voice lower now, like he was testing the waters.

You thought about it. Really thought about it.

Had you ever wanted to let go like that? To hand over control, to not have to think, just follow? You weren’t sure you’d ever considered it before, not in so many words, but the way your body reacted to Austin’s touch, to his voice—

Your stomach flipped. The thought should’ve felt ridiculous, but it didn’t. It made sense. It wasn’t just about liking the praise—it was something deeper.

You liked knowing what to do. You liked when things were clear, when you didn’t have to guess or hesitate. And when Austin took control—when he guided you, when he told you exactly what he wanted—it felt... right.

Had it always been like that? Had you always liked that feeling?

Your stomach tightened.

“…Maybe,” you admitted softly.

Austin studied you, his fingers now barely ghosting over your pulse point. “We don’t have to,” he murmured. “If you’re not into it, if it’s not something you want—”

“I do,” you cut in, surprising yourself. Your throat felt dry, your pulse kicking a little harder. “I think… I do.”

Something flickered in his gaze—something thoughtful, something knowing. His thumb brushed over your wrist, slow and deliberate.

“We’ve got a packed day,” he murmured, voice lower now, curiosity still dancing in his eyes. “But… we can talk more about it later.”

The implication sent heat curling in your stomach. You swallowed, nodding.

“Yeah.” Your voice came out softer than you expected. “Later.”

Austin smirked, giving your hand a final squeeze before letting go. “Looking forward to it.”

And just like that, the moment shifted back to normal—except now, there was something else there, lingering beneath the surface.

The press tour was over.

No more early morning flights, no more crammed schedules, no more sitting under hot lights while answering the same five questions in slightly different ways. After weeks of moving from one city to the next, you were finally home.

And yet—

You still couldn’t stop thinking about it.

About him.

Austin had been completely normal for the rest of the press tour. That was the problem.

He hadn’t brought up the conversation again—not once. Not a single teasing remark, not a knowing smirk, not even a look that suggested he was thinking about it. He’d just carried on as if nothing had changed.

Except it had.

It was in the way your stomach flipped when his voice dropped just a little lower than usual. The way your skin tingled when he touched the small of your back.

The way you caught yourself watching him more than usual—wondering what was going on inside his head.

Austin wasn’t the type to jump into something without thinking it through. If he hadn’t mentioned it, there had to be a reason. Maybe he was just waiting for you to bring it up. You swallowed, curling deeper into the couch.

It had been hours since you’d gotten home, but you still felt unsettled. Like something was waiting just beneath the surface, hovering in the quiet between you and Austin.

Speak of the devil—

You glanced up as he walked in from the kitchen, two glasses of whiskey in hand. He wore an old, well-worn t-shirt and sweatpants, a stark contrast from the designer suits he’d practically lived in for the past few weeks.

You accepted the glass as he sat down beside you, tucking one leg under the other, settling in like this was the first time he could breathe in weeks.

“Feels weird being home, huh?” he mused, taking a slow sip.

You hummed in agreement. “Like I forgot how to just… sit still.”

His lips twitched. “You? Miss ‘I follow instructions perfectly’? I don’t believe it.”

Your stomach flipped.

You shot him a look, heat creeping up your neck. “I knew you were thinking about it.”

Austin smirked against the rim of his glass. “I never said I wasn’t.”

Your heart stuttered. You set your drink down on the coffee table, suddenly unable to focus on anything other than the way he was looking at you.

Austin exhaled, setting his own glass down before shifting closer, his arm resting along the back of the couch.

When he leaned in, brushing his lips over yours, it was slow. Unhurried.

You sighed against him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. His hand came up to your jaw, his thumb grazing over your cheekbone, tilting your head slightly.

And just like that, you followed.

You let him adjust the angle, let him take control of the kiss exactly how he wanted—and you liked it.

Austin hummed, breaking away just enough to let his breath ghost over your lips. His fingers traced down, skimming your wrist—just like he had that morning in the hotel.

He tilted his head, studying you, and then—

“You like that, don’t you?”

You froze.

Your pulse hammered against your ribs.

Austin’s eyes stayed on yours, patient, waiting—not pushing, just watching.

Your breath was shaky when you finally answered.

“…Yeah.”

His lips twitched, something warm flickering in his gaze. His fingers squeezed lightly around your wrist, not tight, not forceful—just present.

“Good.” His voice was soft, smooth, edged with something deeper. “Because if we’re gonna do this, I wanna do it right.”

You swallowed hard. “Right?”

Austin nodded, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin. “I’ve been doing some research.”

Your stomach flipped.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow, amused. “That’s all you’ve got?”

Heat bloomed in your chest. “I—I just…” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “You researched?”

His lips twitched. “Of course I did. You really think I’d jump into something like this without making sure I know how to take care of you?”

Something about the way he said it—take care of you—made your stomach clench.

You swallowed. “What did you find?”

Austin smirked. “You really wanna get into that now, sweetheart?”

Your face burned. “I mean—I should know, right?”

His smirk softened, turning into something more sincere. “You should. And we will talk about it. But before anything else, I wanna make sure you’re comfortable.”

You nodded quickly. “I am.”

Austin gave you a look. “No, I mean really comfortable. This only works if you feel safe, if you know you can always stop things if you want to.”

You bit your lip. “Okay.”

His fingers traced the inside of your wrist again, grounding you.

“There’s something called the colour system,” he murmured. “It’s simple—green, yellow, red. Green means you’re good, you’re enjoying it. Yellow means slow down, maybe check in. Red means stop—no questions asked.”

You stared at him, your heart thudding against your ribs.

He was serious.

Not just about doing this—but about doing it right.

Warmth bloomed in your chest, curling around your ribs.

“You really thought about this,” you murmured.

Austin smiled. “Of course I did.”

And that was the moment you knew.

This wasn’t just some passing curiosity, some fleeting experiment.

Austin wanted to take care of you.

And you wanted to let him.

A slow exhale left your lips, your body settling into the realisation, letting it sink into your bones.

Austin’s thumb traced over your wrist again, his touch light, thoughtful. Still watching you. Still waiting.

That same familiar warmth curled in your stomach—the same pull that had been there from the moment this conversation started.

You looked up at him, and he must have seen it in your eyes.

Because the next thing you knew, he was kissing you.

The movie had long since become background noise. You weren’t sure what was happening on the screen anymore—not when Austin was kissing you like this.

You were curled into his side, legs tangled, fingers slipping into the fabric of his t-shirt as his lips moved against yours, slow and deep. It had started soft, unhurried, but now there was something heavier beneath it.

His hands skimmed over your waist, his thumb brushing just beneath the hem of your top before his fingers flexed, gripping you just enough to make your breath hitch.

Austin noticed.

Of course he did.

He pulled back just enough to let his nose brush against yours, his fingers still resting warm and firm on your skin.

“You still good?” he murmured.

You swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t move in again. Instead, he waited—watching you, giving you the space to process.

You knew what this was.

This was the moment—the point where you could still pull back, still pretend like none of this had changed between you.

But you didn’t want to.

You wanted this. You wanted him.

Austin exhaled, dragging his fingers higher, slow, deliberate. “I need you to remember something for me, sweetheart.”

You shivered. “Okay.”

His thumb traced circles over your ribs, grounding. “I’m taking the lead here. But you?” His eyes stayed locked on yours. “You’re in control.”

Your breath caught. “I—”

“You say red, I stop.” His voice was smooth, but firm. “You say yellow, I slow down. Green means you’re good.”

You nodded quickly, pulse kicking. “Got it.”

Austin gave you a look.

“Say it back to me, baby.”

You licked your lips, heart pounding. “Green means I’m good, yellow means slow down, red means stop.”

Austin’s fingers squeezed at your side, approving. “Good girl.”

Heat flared through you at the praise.

He noticed.

His lips twitched like he was fighting a smirk, but he let it slide for now. Instead, his fingers traced slow lines up your back, settling at the nape of your neck.

You hesitated for a moment before grinning, trying to lighten the moment.

“So… do I need to call you sir or something?”

Austin let out a low chuckle, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin. “Only if you want to, baby.”

You swallowed hard, but your grin didn’t fade. “You have a preference?”

His fingers tightened, just slightly. “I like hearing you say my name when you’re like this.”

Your breath hitched.

His name. Not sir, not anything else—just Austin.

Something about that made warmth curl through your chest. Like it was intimate, just between you and him.

You swallowed hard, nodding.

Austin smiled, kissing you again—slower this time, like he was savoring the way you were melting against him. His hands mapped your waist, your back, his lips pressing firmer, deeper.

Everything was so much more intense now, knowing where this was headed.

Then, he pulled back.

You blinked, dazed. “What—?”

Austin smirked, his hands dropping to your thighs as he leaned back against the couch.

“Go to the bedroom,” he said, voice slow and deliberate.

Your stomach flipped.

“Take off your clothes.”

Your breath caught.

Then—

“Sit on the edge of the bed and wait for me.”

Heat rushed through you.

Austin let the words settle between you, his expression calm, patient, but expectant.

He was watching you so closely, waiting for any hesitation.

But you didn’t hesitate.

You hovered for a second, your lips brushing his, breathing in the heat between you. Your fingers curled at the hem of his shirt, like maybe—just maybe—you’d stay a little longer.

Austin’s hand slid lower, tracing the curve of your hip, his voice a warm hum against your mouth.

“Go on, baby,” he murmured.

Your stomach flipped. You swallowed, then slowly pulled back. His gaze followed you as you stood.

And then—

His hand smacked your ass, light but undeniable.

You gasped—not in shock, but in pure, giddy surprise. A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it.

Austin grinned, tilting his head at you, pleased.

“There she is,” he murmured.

Your heart hammered.

His smile only widened as you turned and ran off to the bedroom.

He didn’t follow immediately.

You could feel him waiting—making you anticipate, making you think about what was coming.

And God, it was so much worse than if he had just followed you right away.

The bedroom felt different like this.

It wasn’t like before—when you’d stumble in together, tangled up in laughter and kisses, pulling at each other’s clothes in a rush to get to the bed.

Now?

Now, you were waiting for him.

You sat at the edge of the bed, exactly how he’d told you to. The air felt warmer against your skin, every inch of you aware of the anticipation curling in your stomach.

He hadn’t followed you immediately.

It had only been a minute or two—long enough for your breath to steady, for your skin to prickle with awareness. You weren’t nervous, not really. Mostly, you just wanted.

The sound of the door creaking open pulled your focus.

Your eyes were already on the doorway when Austin stepped inside, his movements slow, unrushed.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Just stood there.

Watching.

The flickering light from the hallway cast shadows over his face, but you could still see the way his gaze dragged over you, taking his time, letting the moment settle between you.

He exhaled slowly, voice smooth, assessing.

“…Look at you.”

Your stomach tightened.

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he stepped further inside, the door clicking shut behind him.

Austin took his time crossing the room, his steps slow and measured. Not hesitant—never hesitant. Just deliberate, as if he wanted you to feel every second of the space closing between you.

Your pulse kicked hard as he came closer, your eyes locked onto his, unable to look away.

He was still in the same sweatpants and t-shirt he’d been wearing on the couch, but there was something different now. Something in the way his body moved—loose, controlled, completely in command of the moment.

By the time he reached you, the anticipation curled so tight in your stomach you thought you might tremble.

Austin stopped just in front of you.

He didn’t touch you immediately. Instead, he just stood there, looking at you. Letting you feel the weight of his presence, his focus.

Your breathing shallowed out, but you didn’t move—not because you weren’t allowed to, but because you didn’t want to. Because you wanted to be right here, locked in this moment, waiting for him to take that last step.

And then, he did.

One hand lifted, fingers skimming so lightly along your jaw before settling firmly at your chin.

A controlled touch.

Not rough, but deliberate.

His thumb traced a slow path across your cheekbone before tilting your chin up, guiding your gaze back to his.

Your breath caught.

Austin hummed, almost like he was committing this moment to memory.

“…Good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, thumb pressing just slightly against your skin.

The words sent a hot, unshakable pull straight through your core.

You weren’t even sure you breathed before he leaned down, his mouth brushing against yours, so soft you barely felt it—

A tease.

A test.

Like he wanted to see if you’d chase him.

Your fingers curled at your sides. You wanted to.

Austin chuckled, the sound warm, knowing.

His grip tightened just slightly, his free hand skimming over your knee, tracing.

“Tell me how you feel,” he murmured.

A deliberate check-in. Not because he thought you’d hesitate—but because he needed to hear you say it.

Your pulse pounded. “I feel good.”

Austin’s lips quirked. “Yeah?”

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

His thumb stroked over your cheek, his gaze still locked on yours.

“Good.”

His hand drifted lower, fingertips ghosting over your collarbone, slow and unrushed.

“You’re doing so well for me already,” he said softly.

You shivered.

His knees bent slightly, his posture relaxed but controlled as he brought himself closer, lower. Enough that you didn’t have to crane your neck too much, just enough to keep you looking up at him.

You weren’t sure who exhaled first before his lips were on yours again—firmer this time, undeniably leading.

Guiding you into exactly what he wanted.

And you?

You followed.

Austin’s lips moved slow and sure against yours, deepening the kiss just enough to pull you further under.

His thumb traced lazy circles against your cheek, a gentle contrast to the firm grip still holding your chin in place.

Leading.

Guiding.

Watching how you responded.

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t sudden. He let it linger, breathing against your lips for a second before his fingers tilted your face just slightly to the side, exposing more of your neck.

You let him.

He hummed lowly, dragging the back of his fingers down the column of your throat, following their path with his eyes, like he was memorising you in real time.

His free hand, the one still resting lightly on your knee, squeezed.

A reminder.

“Keep your hands where they are,” he murmured.

A soft instruction.

Not forceful, not a warning—just a quiet expectation.

Your breath caught, but you didn’t hesitate. You stayed still, fingers curled into the blanket beneath you, even as his hands continued their slow, teasing path over your skin.

Austin smiled.

“Good girl.”

The words sent a hot, shivering pulse through you.

His lips pressed against the corner of your jaw, not quite kissing—just lingering there, close enough that you felt the warmth of his breath.

“You like that, don’t you?”

Your stomach fluttered.

You swallowed hard. “Yes.”

His teeth grazed the spot just below your ear.

“That’s my girl.”

A thrill shot through you, unexpected and overwhelming, curling in your stomach so fast you barely had time to register it.

Austin chuckled against your skin, feeling the way you reacted before you even had the chance to process it yourself.

He always noticed.

The hand on your knee moved higher, fingers trailing up your thigh, featherlight but deliberate.

His lips brushed against your ear, his voice low and controlled.

“I think you’re ready for the next instruction, sweetheart.”

Your breath shuddered. “Tell me.”

Austin smirked, pulling back just enough to look at you again, his thumb skimming one last time over your cheek.

“Lay back for me.”

Your pulse jumped.

Not out of nerves, but out of anticipation.

Austin didn’t rush you. He never did. He just waited, watching you carefully as you shifted, leaning back until your spine met the mattress.

His gaze dragged down the length of you, slow and approving.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, every inch of your skin flushed, exposed, waiting.

Austin hummed, low and thoughtful.

“Hands above your head.”

Heat curled low in your stomach.

Slowly, deliberately, you did as he asked, letting your arms stretch above you, settling against the sheets.

Austin’s lips quirked.

“See? You’re a natural at this.”

You exhaled sharply, your chest rising and falling with the weight of the moment.

Austin’s hands trailed over you, fingertips grazing down your stomach, tracing over the curves of your hips, mapping his way down with infuriating patience.

His mouth followed, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your collarbone, your ribs—each one slower, more deliberate than the last.

His pace never changed.

No rush. No urgency.

Just complete control.

And you?

You could barely breathe.

Austin’s voice came, a warm murmur against your skin.

“You still good, baby?”

Your breath hitched.

“Yes,” you whispered.

Austin hummed in approval, his lips grazing the dip between your ribs before he lifted his head, letting his gaze roam over you.

“Now, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hands tracing slow, idle circles over your hips, “I want you to do something else for me.”

Your pulse jumped, anticipation curling low in your stomach.

“Spread your legs.”

Heat flooded through you at the quiet authority in his voice.

You hesitated for just a second—not out of reluctance, but because you wanted to savor the moment, the weight of his words sinking in. Then, you did as he asked. Slowly, deliberately, you parted your thighs, feeling the cool air graze over your already overheated skin.

Austin’s breath hitched.

It was subtle, barely there, but you caught it. And that was the moment you knew—he was just as affected by this as you were.

His hands smoothed down your thighs, fingers pressing just firmly enough to keep you exactly as he wanted. His control was unwavering. He wasn’t just touching you—he was positioning you.

And then—His grip tightened. “Don’t move.”

Your breath stalled in your throat. Austin’s voice was still smooth, steady, but now there was an edge to it, something undeniable, commanding.

Your pulse thrummed against your ribs. Austin watched you, waiting, searching for any hesitation—but there was none.

So, when his fingers finally drifted lower, his touch was so unhurried, so deliberate, you thought you might lose your mind before he even started.

You wanted to shift, wanted to press up into his touch, but his words still echoed in your head.

Don’t move.

You clenched your hands into the sheets above you, breathing hard as he finally—finally—gave you what you’d been waiting for.

The first stroke of his fingers was agonizingly slow, a teasing drag through your slickness, spreading the wetness he found there.

Austin let out a low, satisfied hum.

“So good for me,” he murmured. “Already so wet, baby.”

Your whole body tensed, your thighs threatening to tremble against his hold.

He felt it. And he didn’t allow it. His grip tightened just slightly, a reminder.

Your breath came out shaky. “Austin—”

A sharp squeeze to your thigh. “Careful.”

The warning was gentle but firm, the kind that made heat rush straight to your core. You swallowed, forcing yourself to stay still.

Austin rewarded you immediately.

His fingers circled your clit with slow, devastating precision, never too much, never too little—just enough to have your stomach twisting with need.

Your fingers dug into the sheets, desperate to ground yourself.

Austin noticed.

His lips curved into a pleased smirk, his other hand dragging over your stomach, soothing you as his fingers kept their slow, ruthless pace.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “You’re taking it so well.”

You whined, your head tipping back.

Austin chuckled against your skin, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss against your hip, his breath warm and steady, his grip still firm on your thigh—keeping you exactly where he wanted. But then, as his fingers circled with devastating precision, a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through you, and before you could stop yourself, your back arched.

It was instinct, reflex—your body responding to him before your mind could catch up.

Austin’s fingers stilled instantly.

The shift was so subtle, so controlled, that at first, you barely registered what had happened. But then he pulled away. Not roughly, not as a punishment, but with calm, deliberate intent. His fingers left your skin, retreating, while his grip on your thigh remained firm—a quiet reminder that he was still in control.

Your breath hitched, heat flashing through you, not just from frustration but from the sharp, sudden awareness that you’d broken the rule.

Austin exhaled, his smirk edging into something deeper, something knowing. He dragged his thumb in slow, lazy circles over your thigh—not to soothe, but to make you wait. To let the loss of his touch sink in.

“What did I tell you, sweetheart?” His voice was smooth, even, but there was a quiet weight behind it, something unmistakably firm.

You swallowed hard, pulse pounding. “…Not to move.”

Austin hummed, pleased you remembered, but he didn’t give you what you wanted—not yet. Instead, his free hand traced idle patterns along your stomach, fingers dragging over your heated skin, but never quite where you needed him most. He was making you feel it, making you sit in the tension of the moment, fully aware of what had happened and what it meant.

“And what did you do?”

Your fingers clenched against the sheets above you, heat crawling up your neck. “I—I moved.”

“Mmm.” His fingers trailed lower, teasing, but never quite touching, his breath ghosting against your thigh. “You did, didn’t you?”

The teasing lilt in his voice sent a fresh rush of heat through you. You wanted to squirm, to press your thighs together, to do anything to relieve the aching need he’d built up in you. But you knew better now.

Austin let the silence stretch, letting the moment settle between you. And then, just when you thought you might break from the waiting—

“Let’s try that again.”

And this time, when he touched you again, it was worse.

Slower.

More controlled.

Every movement designed to push you to the edge, to test how well you could follow.

And now?

Now, you didn’t move.

Not until he let you.

Austin’s touch was back, but this time, he wasn’t just touching you.

He was testing you.

His fingers teased right along the edge of where you needed him, the pressure just light enough to make your thighs tremble with restraint. The worst part? You knew he was doing it on purpose. You could see it in the way his lips curled at the edges, that slow, knowing smirk that told you he was watching, waiting to see if you’d break again.

But you didn’t.

Not this time.

You kept your arms where they belonged, stretched above your head, fingers curling against the sheets, muscles tight with effort. Your thighs stayed parted, exactly how he told you to keep them, your body held in perfect, obedient stillness.

Austin exhaled a quiet hum, his fingers tracing slow, measured circles over your clit. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. “That’s my girl.”

The praise sent a pulse of heat straight through your core, but you held firm.

Austin’s hand drifted lower, teasing through your slickness before pressing two fingers inside you, slow and deliberate, filling you with an unhurried precision that had your whole body tightening around him.

You gasped, your nails digging into the sheets. Your hips twitched—small, barely perceptible, but enough.

Austin’s movements didn’t stop immediately, but his rhythm shifted—not easing up, not punishing, just letting you feel the change. A silent reminder.

A pleased sound rumbled low in his chest, and he tilted his head slightly, observing you with that same sharp, calculated focus. “You feel that, sweetheart?”

The weight of his attention made your breath catch. He was always so attuned to you, always catching the smallest shifts in your body.

You swallowed hard, barely managing to nod.

Austin’s fingers curled just right, pressing into a spot that sent a sharp, pleasure-laced shock up your spine.

Your breath hitched.

His voice dipped lower. “You’re taking me so well.”

The words only made the heat in your stomach coil tighter, hotter. The pressure was building too fast, too intense, too much.

Your thighs tensed, your stomach quivered, your whole body on the verge of something devastating.

Austin felt it. He always did.

“Almost there, baby?” His lips brushed against your inner thigh, teasing, coaxing, but still in control.

You let out a breathy whimper, barely able to form words. “Y-Yes.”

His fingers didn’t slow. Didn’t ease up.

But he wasn’t letting you go just yet.

“Hold it for me.”

Your body shook.

Austin’s fingers kept pressing, circling, building, but the one thing you needed most—the release, the permission—he wasn’t giving it to you.

Not yet.

“Stay right there,” he murmured, his voice like silk over gravel. “Don’t come until I tell you.”

Your entire body locked up, trapped on the razor-thin edge of pleasure, every nerve burning with the effort of holding it back.

But you did it.

You held it.

Because he told you to.

Austin’s free hand slid up your stomach, his touch light, reassuring. “So good for me, sweetheart.”

His thumb pressed down harder, his fingers curling deep—

The world tilted.

You were unraveling, the pleasure cresting so violently your body nearly betrayed you—nearly—but you clung to his words, to the last thread of restraint, waiting, waiting—

And then—

Austin exhaled, his lips grazing your thigh as he finally, finally gave you what you needed.

“Come for me.”

The command sent you spiraling.

Pleasure crashed over you, white-hot and overwhelming, your body shaking as you let go, every inch of you surrendering completely to the force of it. Your breath came shaky, uneven, gasping, your thighs threatening to close around his hand, but Austin didn’t let you.

He held you open, held you through it, his fingers never stopping until he’d wrung every last drop of pleasure from you.

When it finally, finally subsided, you felt boneless, your limbs heavy, your skin flushed and buzzing.

Austin pressed a slow, lingering kiss against your stomach, soothing, grounding.

“Breathe, baby,” he murmured.

You did.

A slow inhale, your chest rising, falling, settling.

Austin watched you carefully, his hands still warm against your thighs, his eyes dark but undeniably soft. “You okay?”

You blinked up at him, still catching your breath.

And then, a small, blissed-out laugh slipped from your lips. “Yeah.”

Austin grinned, leaning up until he was hovering over you, his lips just barely brushing yours.

“You did so well for me.”

Heat bloomed low in your stomach again, but this time, it was softer—a slow, warm glow rather than a burning need.

He lifted one of your wrists gently, running his thumb over the crease of your palm before guiding it down, down, down—

Letting you feel the way he wanted to bring you back.

His other hand followed, his touch warm, steady, easing the tension from your arms as he finally, finally let you move again.

Only then did you reach for him, instinctively pulling him closer.

Austin let you, pressing himself against you, covering you with his warmth.

And when he kissed you, it was unhurried, lingering, full of quiet satisfaction.

Your breath was still uneven, your pulse a slow, deep thrum in your ears, your body heavy with the aftershocks of pleasure. But Austin?

Austin wasn’t done.

You knew it before he even said a word. You could feel it. In the way his body still hovered over yours, the way his fingers still moved—never idle, never aimless. Just deliberate. Deciding.

You swallowed hard, already feeling the warmth start to build again, even though you’d barely recovered.

Austin hummed low in his throat, his fingers traced lower, skimming over your ribs, dragging over the curve of your breast before cupping you firmly, fully.

Your breath hitched.

Austin smiled, slow and satisfied. Like he was testing how sensitive you still were.

And when his thumb brushed over your nipple—you shuddered.

Austin didn’t rush. His hands moved with the same measured, deliberate control he’d kept all night—mapping you, exploring you, playing with you like he had all the time in the world. Then, his lips were on your breast.

Your breath stuttered.

He started slow, dragging his lips over the curve, breath warm, fingers still teasing and tracing, never quite giving you enough. Then, he licked—a slow, deliberate stroke over your nipple, wet and warm, so careful, like he wanted to see exactly how you’d react before doing it again.

Your body betrayed you instantly. Your breath hitched, your thighs twitching, heat bolting straight between your legs like a live wire. Austin smirked. He felt it. Of course he did.

He wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking hard. A sharp gasp tore from your throat, your back arching slightly as his hand squeezed your other breast, his thumb rolling your nipple between his fingers, keeping you trapped between two perfect sensations. He sucked, licked, flicked, each movement precise, calculated, like he was testing just how much he could unravel you with his mouth alone.

His breath was warm against your damp skin when he pulled off, lips twitching with quiet amusement as he took in the way you trembled beneath him.

Austin shifted, his fingers dragging down your ribs, your waist, your hips, like he was testing how sensitive you’d become. Your whole body shivered at his touch. His voice dropped lower, smoother. “Tell me your colour, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, barely able to think past the heat pooling low in your stomach. “Green.”

Austin hummed, pleased. “Good girl.”

Then, without warning, he pulled back.

Your breath caught as you watched him lean back onto his knees, reaching for the hem of his shirt. And then—he pulled it over his head.

Fuck.

The sight of him—bare, toned, gorgeous, every inch of him flushed with heat, the faintest sheen of sweat on his chest—made your stomach tighten, fluttering, wanting. Your thighs shifted.

His smirk deepened as he stood and kicked off his sweatpants, leaving him completely bare. You couldn’t breathe. Your eyes dropped—

And your stomach flipped.

Austin was hard.

Painfully, devastatingly hard.

For you.

And when his fingers wrapped around himself, a soft, helpless sound slipped from your throat.

Austin groaned, slow and low, stroking himself, taking his time, letting you watch. “See what you do to me?”

Your whole body flushed, the heat crawling down your chest, your stomach, settling low, low, low. You could barely think past it, past the way his hand moved, past the way his muscles tensed, past the way he let you take in every inch of him, knowing exactly what it was doing to you.

Austin exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head like he was just as wrecked as you were. “You like watching, don’t you?”

You barely had it in you to answer. “…Yes.”

Austin’s grin deepened. He leaned in again, one hand still lazily stroking himself, the other trailing up your stomach, between your breasts, wrapping gently around your throat. Not squeezing. Not holding. Just resting there. Letting you feel the warmth of his palm, the weight of his touch, the control of it. His lips hovered over yours, so close you could taste his breath.

“You ready for your next instruction, baby?”

Your pulse pounded, heat curling tighter in your stomach, everything in you locked onto him, onto the moment, onto the way his fingers flexed lightly around your throat. You swallowed, shivering beneath his touch.

“Yes.”

Austin’s thumb dragged over your pulse point, slow, approving. His voice came low, dark, commanding.

“Tell me what you want.”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t know—God, you knew. But saying it out loud, admitting it, asking for it—that was part of the game, wasn’t it?

Austin’s lips quirked, like he could see your hesitation, like he knew exactly what was happening in your head.

His grip stayed firm around himself as he watched you, his strokes slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every second. “Come on, sweetheart.” His voice was soft, coaxing, but edged with quiet authority. “Use your words.”

His other hand shifted, fingers sliding lower, tracing over your collarbone, then lower still, skimming the valley between your breasts, dragging the moment out.

Your whole body tensed, trembling. Your nails curled into the sheets, your thighs twitching as you sucked in a sharp breath.

“…I want you to touch me.”

Austin’s smirk deepened, but his eyes stayed locked onto yours, steady, dark, unwavering. “Where?”

Your face flushed hot. “You know where.”

Austin tutted, shaking his head, clearly enjoying every second of this. His fingers traced over your stomach, light and teasing, never quite dipping lower. “I do,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “But I wanna hear you say it.”

Your stomach tightened. He was dragging it out, keeping you hovering right on the edge of desperation, making you admit exactly what you needed.

You swallowed hard. Then—

“My pussy,” you breathed. “I want your mouth on me.”

Austin groaned, his jaw tightening. His fingers flexed around his cock, the slow pull of his strokes matching the way his eyes raked over you, hungry, dark, full of nothing but want.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with approval. “Look at you.”

Your breath caught, your body thrumming at the way he was looking at you—like you were something to be devoured.

Then—without breaking eye contact—Austin slid further down, shifting between your legs.

You barely had time to process it before his hands were on your thighs, holding you open, keeping you exactly how he wanted.

He was so close.

His breath ghosted over your already aching, throbbing heat, teasing, lingering, letting you feel just how close he was to giving you exactly what you needed.

You whimpered, breath shuddering.

Austin smirked. “You’re already shaking, sweetheart.”

Then—he licked.

A slow, wet, devastating drag of his tongue, pressing just enough to make your whole body jolt.

Your thighs tensed, threatening to close around him, but Austin’s grip tightened instantly, keeping you open, keeping you where he wanted.

“Ah-ah,” he murmured, his voice rough, dark, indulgent. “Stay still for me.”

Your breath hitched.

He did it again, a slow, torturous flick of his tongue, followed by the softest, teasing suction around your clit.

Your whole body arched, a desperate, broken sound slipping from your lips.

Austin groaned, sucking harder, his grip tightening, keeping you locked in place as his mouth worked you over with calculated precision.

Your fingers clenched the sheets, your stomach tightening, the pleasure coiling low, deep, unbearable.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t going fast.

Austin was taking his time, savoring the way your body tensed, trembled, begged for more.

Your head dropped back against the pillows, a wrecked whimper spilling from your lips.

Austin chuckled against you, sending vibrations straight through your core. “You taste so fucking good,” he muttered, almost to himself.

You gasped, your hands twitching, aching to reach for him, to grab his hair, to pull him closer—

But you didn’t.

You remembered the rules.

You stayed still.

Austin noticed.

And he rewarded you.

His tongue flicked faster, the pressure increasing, circling, sucking, stroking—

You gasped, thighs trembling, vision hazy.

Austin groaned against you, his hands digging into your thighs, keeping you open, keeping you his.

Then—he pulled back.

A strangled, desperate whimper tore from your throat.

Austin grinned, his lips slick, his breath heavy. “You wanna come, baby?”

You were shaking. “Yes,” you choked out.

Austin tilted his head, dragging his thumb through the mess he’d made of you, barely applying pressure, just enough to drive you insane.

“Then beg for it.”

“Please, Austin.”

The words slipped from your lips, barely more than a whimper.

Austin grinned against your skin. “You can do better than that, baby.”

His fingers flexed over your thighs, keeping them spread, keeping you open. “Tell me exactly what you need.”

You swallowed hard, pulse hammering, voice shaking.

“Please, I—I want to come.”

Austin hummed, dragging his lips over the inside of your thigh, teasing, slow. “Where?”

Heat rushed through your chest, down your stomach, pooling between your legs. You could barely breathe past it. You whimpered, your fingers twisting into the sheets. “I want to come on your mouth.”

A groan rumbled in Austin’s chest, deep, wrecked, satisfied. “That’s my girl.”

Then—he gave you exactly what you begged for.

His mouth was back on you in an instant, hot, wet, relentless.

His tongue flicked over your clit, faster now, harder, a devastating contrast to the slow, torturous teasing from before.

Your back arched off the bed, a wrecked moan ripping from your throat.

Austin held you down, kept you right where he wanted, kept you pinned beneath the weight of his control.

His tongue moved in perfect, ruthless strokes, sucking, circling, flicking, dragging you closer and closer to the edge—

You gasped, whimpered, your thighs trembling violently.

Austin could feel it.

His grip tightened, his tongue working you over with precise, practiced pressure, his groan vibrating against you.

You were so fucking close, dangling over the edge, the pleasure spiraling, cresting, blinding.

Your body locked up, your breath catching—

Austin felt the shift immediately.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t ease up.

Didn’t let up until—

Pleasure slammed through you, sharp and overwhelming, ripping you apart at the seams.

Your whole body shook, wrecked, trembling, your pulse thundering, your thighs squeezing against Austin’s grip.

Austin didn’t let go.

He held you down, held you through it, his mouth still moving, still licking, still pushing you through every last wave of it.

You let out a helpless sob, your vision white-hot, your body pulsing.

Austin groaned against you, licking you through every last tremor, refusing to let you come down easily.

You were panting, gasping, wrecked, every nerve still tingling, your body limp against the sheets.

Finally, finally, Austin pulled back.

His lips were slick, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. He watched you carefully, his hands still warm on your thighs, grounding you.

His gaze dragged up your body, dark and heated, but laced with something softer, more thoughtful.

“You still with me, baby?” His voice was low, warm, edged with something indulgent but unmistakably careful.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. “Yeah.”

Austin smirked, his thumb tracing absentminded circles over your hip. “Good.”

His hands skimmed up your body, slow, deliberate, savoring every inch of your skin as he moved.

“Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath shuddered, your pulse still pounding, your body still buzzing from the last orgasm he’d pulled from you.

The thought sent a ripple of heat through your core—because you wanted more. You knew you did. But your muscles were already trembling, every inch of you sensitive, flushed, wrecked.

Could you handle it?

Austin must have seen the flicker of hesitation on your face, because his touch softened, his gaze sharpening in that way it always did when he was reading you.

His fingers traced over your hip, soothing, grounding.

“You okay, sweetheart?” His voice was warm, patient, steady.

You swallowed, nodding. “Yeah.”

Austin hummed, shifting his weight, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the center of your stomach. “Talk to me.”

You breathed, trying to gather your thoughts past the haze of lingering pleasure.

“I want to.” Your voice was soft, hoarse. Shaky, but sure.

Austin’s lips quirked into something softer, something knowing. “But?”

You exhaled, flushing. “I don’t know if I can.”

Austin smiled, dragging his lips up your ribs, your sternum, working his way higher.

“You don’t have to do anything, baby.” His voice was like silk, smooth and firm all at once. “You just have to let me take care of you.”

A slow exhale left your lips, your body instinctively relaxing beneath him.

You trusted him.

You wanted this.

Austin’s hand slid over your thigh, coaxing, encouraging, wordlessly reassuring.

“Just tell me,” he murmured against your jaw, his voice low, patient. “Green or yellow?”

Your stomach flipped.

You knew what he was asking.

You swallowed, exhaled.

“Green.”

A slow, approving hum rumbled from Austin’s chest. His lips brushed against yours—light, teasing.

“Good girl.”

Then—he kissed you.

Not gentle.

Not careful.

Deep. Consuming. Possessive.

Your body arched beneath him, your legs parting, welcoming him in.

Austin’s hand gripped your thigh, hooking it higher over his hip, adjusting you exactly how he wanted.

Your breath hitched as he rocked forward, teasing you with the thick, aching length of him, sliding through your slickness, pressing just enough—just barely—without giving you what you needed.

You whimpered, hips shifting, chasing him.

Austin smirked against your lips, his grip tightening, keeping you still.

“Uh-uh.” His voice was low, commanding. “You wait for me.”

Your pulse pounded, every muscle locking up with restraint.

Austin groaned quietly, adjusting his angle, his teasing measured, deliberate. Then—he pressed in.

A slow, steady push, stretching you, filling you, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt.

You gasped, your fingers clawing at his back, your legs trembling around him.

Austin let out a deep, ragged moan, his forehead pressing to yours, his breath uneven, his muscles tense.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

You weren’t sure if it was for you or for himself.

Maybe both.

His hand gripped your thigh tighter, holding you open for him, anchoring you beneath him.

You felt every inch of him, every slow pulse, every deep throb.

Austin’s lips brushed against your temple, down to your jaw, his breath hot, measured, steady even as his muscles trembled with restraint.

“You still doing okay, baby?” His voice was rough now, strained.

You nodded quickly, desperately. “Yes.”

Austin groaned, gripping your hip before drawing back—just enough—before thrusting forward, pushing deeper, pulling another gasping moan from your lips.

The rhythm was slow at first, controlled, dragging the pleasure out until you were whimpering beneath him, until your nails dug into his shoulders.

Then—he picked up the pace.

Deeper.

Harder.

Austin set the rhythm, and you followed.

Your body clung to him, heat tightening, winding, pressing, overwhelming.

The pleasure was almost too much, too sharp, too good.

Austin felt it.

He let out a low, strangled moan, his lips parting, his brows furrowing as he watched you, felt you, attuned to every tiny shift, every helpless gasp, every flutter around him.

“You close, baby?” His voice was lower now, breathless, edged with pure need.

You barely had it in you to speak. “Yes—”

Austin smirked, tilting your chin up, kissing you through it, swallowing your gasps as he drove into you harder, faster, deeper.

Your body shook beneath him, already sensitive, already teetering on the edge again.

Austin’s hand slid between you, fingers finding your clit, pressing, circling—

Your whole body locked up, the pleasure ripping through you again, sharper, hotter.

“Austin—”

His pace faltered, his grip tightened, his body pressed deeper.

The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, consuming, wrecking, tearing through every last nerve.

But Austin didn’t stop.

He groaned low in his throat, his grip on your hip tightening, holding you in place as he kept moving—deep, steady thrusts that sent aftershocks rolling through you, making you gasp, making your thighs shake.

You whimpered, still pulsing around him, still too sensitive, too wrecked—but Austin wasn’t done.

Not yet.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he gritted out, his forehead pressing against yours. His pace didn’t slow—if anything, it got rougher, more desperate, like he was chasing the high he’d been holding back all night.

Your hands scrambled for purchase, slipping from his shoulders to his biceps, feeling them tense beneath your fingers. Every muscle in his body was tight with restraint, trembling with the effort of keeping himself from losing control completely.

But he was slipping.

You could hear it in his breath, feel it in the way his rhythm stuttered, in the way his hips snapped against yours harder, deeper, a low, wrecked moan spilling from his lips when you clenched around him again.

Your body tried to shy away, the oversensitivity sending sharp, electric jolts through you—but Austin’s hands were there, steady, grounding.

His hand gripped your thigh, pinning you open, keeping you right where he wanted you.

“Stay with me,” he murmured against your skin, voice low, rough, barely more than a growl. “I know, sweetheart. You can take it. Just a little more.”

You whined, barely able to breathe past the overstimulation, your body helpless against the way he was still driving into you, chasing his own release now, his self-control unraveling thread by thread.

He buried his face against your neck, his breath coming hot and heavy, his groans turning into something almost desperate.

“Fuck—fuck—”

His hips slammed into yours once, twice, and then—

Austin broke.

A deep, wrecked moan tore from his throat as he drove himself deep, his body locking up, his grip on you tightening as he finally, finally let go.

You felt the heat of him spill inside you, felt the way his whole body shuddered with the force of it, how his arms trembled as they held you close.

Your body felt boneless, spent, trembling, your breath uneven, your mind lost in the haze.

Austin stayed inside you, anchoring you, grounding you.

His breath was still heavy, his hands slow as they traced over your skin, soothing you, easing you through it.

But even as the last tremors faded, you could still feel the heat lingering, still burning just beneath the surface.

Austin felt it, too.

He smirked, pressing slow kisses along your jaw, down your throat, his fingers still stroking your skin.

“You did so good for me,” he murmured against your collarbone.

Your body shuddered.

Austin exhaled slowly, letting himself rest against you for a moment, his body warm and heavy, his lips pressing soft, lingering kisses against your shoulder. His touch was different now—gentle, reverent, like he was giving you a moment to settle, to breathe.

Carefully, he eased out of you, a quiet groan catching in his throat at the loss of warmth. His hands smoothed down your sides, grounding you, reassuring, as your body gave a soft, involuntary shudder.

You didn’t move. Not yet.

Your limbs felt loose, your mind still floating somewhere between bliss and exhaustion, the aftershocks still buzzing faintly beneath your skin.

Austin pressed a kiss to your temple, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns against your ribs. He wasn’t in a rush, wasn’t pushing. He was just here, watching you, waiting.

Then, his lips brushed over your cheek, his voice low, coaxing.

“Talk to me, baby. How do you feel?”

You inhaled shakily, still catching your breath, still feeling the warmth of his body, the press of his hands. You swallowed, licking your lips, trying to find the words.

“…Good,” you murmured, your voice soft, slightly hoarse. “Really good.”

Austin hummed, his lips curving against your skin. “Yeah?”

You nodded, shifting just slightly, rolling your shoulders, feeling the way your body still trembled, still hummed with lingering heat.

Austin let out a quiet chuckle, his thumb stroking slow circles against your hip. “Think you can take one more?”

Your stomach flipped, your pulse jumping, your body already stirring with something darker, hotter, more desperate.

You hesitated for just a second, just long enough to feel the weight of the moment, the anticipation curling in your stomach. Your body was spent, sensitive, wrecked—but you wanted it. Wanted him.

You exhaled sharply, your voice shaky, but certain.

“Yes.”

Austin’s smirk widened.

“Good girl.”

Austin pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder, his breath still hot against your skin. His hands trailed slowly down your sides, grounding you, even as the heat still burned just beneath the surface.

You exhaled shakily, your body still trembling from the last orgasm.

Austin hummed, satisfied, pressing a kiss to your other shoulder before murmuring against your skin—

“Turn over for me.”

Your stomach flipped.

You were already sensitive—wrecked, overstimulated, every nerve raw and frayed—but the way he said it, low and sure, made your body move before your brain could even catch up.

Slowly, you shifted, rolling onto your stomach, the sheets cool against your heated skin. Your breath shuddered as Austin’s hands immediately found your hips, guiding you, adjusting you exactly how he wanted.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his fingers stroking over the curve of your waist, your lower back, down to your thighs. “Just like that.”

Then, softer—“Colour?”

You swallowed, heat coiling in your stomach, your body still thrumming from everything he’d already given you.

“…Green.”

Austin’s lips quirked, his touch growing bolder. “That’s my girl.”

You buried your face in the pillow, trying to steady your breathing, but then—

His fingers trailed lower.

A slow, teasing drag between your thighs, over the soaked mess of you, still throbbing from the last orgasm.

You jolted. “Austin—”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, soothing, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t pull back. His touch remained slow, steady, deliberate. “You can take it.”

Your body trembled beneath him, already teetering on the edge of too much, but it felt so good. The angle, the way you were stretched beneath him, every nerve ending focused solely on the way his fingers teased, traced, pressed—

Then—he pushed inside.

A slow, deep thrust of his fingers, curling downward, pressing against that devastating spot with unrelenting precision.

Your whole body jerked.

Your mouth fell open on a silent gasp, your thighs twitching as the pressure built too fast, too sharp, too much.

Austin groaned softly, his free hand smoothing over the small of your back, keeping you right where he wanted. “That’s it,” he murmured, stroking deep, coaxing, pushing you higher, higher, higher.

You whimpered, your body writhing, pressing into the mattress, your hips shifting involuntarily, chasing the pressure, the friction, the overwhelming sensation.

Austin’s pace stayed slow, unyielding, making you feel every stroke, every deep curl of his fingers.

A tight, relentless pressure coiled low in your stomach, sharp and insistent, an unfamiliar urgency creeping in, almost too much.

“I—” You gasped, a broken sound slipping from your lips. “I feel like—I need to—”

A flicker of panic shot through your chest. It was too much, too overwhelming, too unfamiliar. The pressure in your stomach coiled tight—

“Yellow.” The word left your lips on a breath, instinctual, unstoppable.

Austin reacted instantly. His fingers slowed, his free hand smoothing over your lower back, grounding you. “Breathe, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice steady, reassuring. “You’re safe. Talk to me.”

You shuddered beneath him, breath shaky. “It’s just—” You swallowed hard. “It feels like—I need to—pee.”

Austin paused—just for a second—but there was no hesitation in the way his fingers smoothed over your skin, keeping you grounded. “I know, baby.” His voice was warm, patient, laced with quiet encouragement. “You don’t have to fight it. Just let go.”

Your body trembled beneath him, caught between tension and release.

“You trust me?” Austin murmured, his fingers stroking over your hip, grounding.

“Yes.”

“Then let me take care of you.”

His hand resumed its slow, coaxing rhythm, gentler this time, guiding you back toward the edge. His voice stayed low, soothing, wrapping around you like silk.

“You’re doing so well for me.” A kiss to the back of your neck. “Just let it happen, sweetheart.”

Your whole body tensed, locked, trapped in the overwhelming crest of it, hovering right on the edge of something devastating.

Austin didn’t let up.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxed, his tone smooth but firm, his fingers pressing deeper, faster, until—

It broke.

The orgasm tore through you, white-hot and all-consuming, pulling a sob from your lips as your body surrendered completely. The release hit so hard your vision blurred, and then—

A rush of liquid warmth spilled from you, drenching his hand, soaking into the sheets beneath you, making you gasp at the sensation.

Austin’s breath hitched.

“Fuck—”

He groaned softly, working you through it, his other hand smoothing up your back, whispering soft praises as you trembled beneath him.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with awe. “So fucking beautiful.”

Tears leaked from your eyes, your body sagged, completely wrecked, completely spent. Your breath came in uneven gasps, your limbs heavy, your skin damp with sweat and pleasure.

Austin held you, soothed you, his voice low, grounding. “You’re okay, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

You barely registered the way he eased his fingers from you, barely noticed the warmth of his hands smoothing over your back, coaxing you down from the high.

Everything felt distant. Warm. Floating.

Austin didn’t move away—not yet. He just held you, breathing slow and steady against your skin, letting you feel the warmth of him. His fingers smoothed through your hair, his lips brushing soft, lingering kisses along your spine, whispering quiet praises.

A deep, shuddering exhale left your lips as you slowly blinked back into the present, still feeling the aftershocks rolling through you.

Austin’s arms wrapped around you, his chest warm against your back, his lips brushing over your shoulder, still holding you, still anchoring you.

And when you finally, finally turned your head to look at him, his expression was pure awe.

“Baby,” he murmured, reaching up to gently brush a tear from your cheek. “That was—”

You swallowed, your throat tight, emotions swelling thick in your chest. “I…” You let out a breathless, dazed laugh. “I think you broke me.”

Austin chuckled softly, nuzzling against your temple. “Never, sweetheart.”

Then, softer—

“You are so fucking perfect.”

Austin stayed close, his body pressed warm and solid against your back, his arms wrapping around you like he had no intention of letting go anytime soon. His lips traced slow, lazy kisses along your shoulder, up to the curve of your neck, his breath still a little uneven, but steadying.

His hands moved over you in slow strokes, smoothing down your arms, your back, your waist—grounding, reassuring. Not because you seemed unsteady, but because he wanted to. Because he needed to.

“You did so fucking good for me, sweetheart,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and warm, full of something deeper than satisfaction.

Your chest rose and fell in slow, uneven breaths, your limbs still heavy, still tingling with the aftershocks of everything he’d pulled from you. But there was something else now—a deep, settled warmth, a sense of being completely held, completely seen.

Austin shifted, slipping one arm beneath you, the other wrapping tighter around your waist as he turned you in his arms, rolling you onto your side so you were facing him. His blue eyes searched yours, checking, reading, waiting.

“How are you feeling?”

You exhaled a slow breath, your lips parting, your voice barely above a whisper.

“…Floaty.”

Austin smiled, his fingers brushing over your cheek, his touch impossibly gentle now. “Yeah?”

You nodded, sinking further into his warmth, his presence, his care.

Austin studied you for a moment, then pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up, baby.”

A sleepy hum left your lips as he carefully pulled back, shifting off the bed. You barely had time to miss the warmth of him before he was back, gently rolling you onto your back, pressing one more kiss to your stomach before grabbing a warm cloth to clean you up.

His touch was careful, slow, reverent.

And when he was done, he pulled the covers up over you, making sure you were comfortable before slipping back in beside you.

Immediately, you curled into him, your head pressing against his chest, your fingers lightly gripping at his side, as if holding onto the steady, grounding weight of him.

Austin exhaled softly, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you in, pressing another kiss to the top of your head.

“You still floaty?” he asked after a moment, amusement threading through the warmth of his voice.

You let out a small, contented sigh. “Mhm.”

Austin chuckled, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles over your back.

For a while, there was only silence—the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the feeling of his fingers smoothing over your skin, the warmth of his body keeping you cocooned in a soft, safe haze.

Then, his voice came, low and quiet.

“You know how proud I am of you, right?”

Your stomach fluttered.

Austin’s fingers found your chin, gently tilting your face up until your eyes met his.

“You trusted me,” he murmured, his gaze deep, his thumb brushing slow, thoughtful circles over your jaw. “And you let go. You let me take care of you.”

Your chest tightened—not with nerves, not with uncertainty, but with something softer, warmer, deeper.

“I liked it,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

Austin’s expression softened into something almost unreadable—something that looked a lot like pure, unfiltered adoration.

His lips brushed against yours, a featherlight, lingering kiss. “I know, baby.”

And then, with quiet certainty—

“We’ll do it again.”

Your stomach flipped, excitement curling low in your belly, but for now, you were content to just be here, wrapped up in him, letting the warmth of his words settle deep into your bones.

Austin shifted, tucking you closer, pressing another kiss to your temple.

“Sleep, sweetheart,” he murmured against your skin, his arms tightening just a little more. “I’ve got you.”

And this time, when your eyes fluttered shut, there wasn’t a single doubt in your mind.

Because you knew—

He did.

Taglist:

@thefallofthedamned @saturnsdaughtr @bellesdreamyprofile @butlerrizz @myradiaz @chocolatetree222

[zablife]

Missing You

Benny Cross x gf reader

Summary: After a wreck puts you in the hospital, Benny takes off. Will he return or leave you with more than just a broken leg?

Warnings: hospital setting, injury, brief mention of motorcycle accident, fear of abandonment, angst with fluffy ending

A/N: My first fic for The Bikeriders, pls be kind! Comments are love so leave me some 💕 No spoilers here!

Divider credit @firefly-graphics

Benny Cross Masterlist

You turned in the narrow hospital bed, head throbbing from the pain and the bright overhead light in your eyes. "Benny," you mumbled, head fuzzy and mouth feeling as though it were stuffed with cotton.

"Isn't there anyone else we could call?" a tired voice asked from far away. "A relative? Parents?"

There was a shuffle and whispering that sounded like a passing cloud over your head. "No one...she doesn't speak to...don't make it worse, please. He'll be back."

You tried to sit up to see what was happening, but you felt a wave a nausea which stopped you suddenly. Screwing your eyes shut to will it away, the gentle rocking only continued, making you whimper.

"Shhh, lie back, honey," a warm voice instructed, pressing you down into the soft pillows. You felt the warmth of a hand encasing yours as reassuring words poured over you like honey. "They put you under to fix that busted leg, but you're gonna be fine now. Just need a little rest, that's all."

You blinked slowly and opened your eyes once more, fixing your gaze on Johnny's wife, Betty. She gave you a small smile and you felt yourself relax at the sight of her kind eyes. Much like Johnny had for Benny, she had become a role model for you, teaching you how to make a life with the Vandals. Now she was more of a mother to you than your flesh and blood.

"Wh-where's Benny?" you asked, a bit more coherently than you'd managed before.

Betty busied herself pouring some water into a cup for you and your heart began to race, wondering if she was stalling. The memories were coming back to you in full force now, Benny carrying you into the hospital after the crash, yelling at the nurses and doctors. Had he abandoned you then because of the trouble or later when he learned of the care you'd require? You felt hot tears welling in your lash line as you realized this might be the end.

As she turned back to you with the cup, Betty's face fell. Sighing gently, she confirmed your worst fears. "He's not coming back tonight, Y/n."

You couldn't stop the sobs that wracked your body, shoulders shaking and chest heaving with the weight of her words. She allowed you a moment of despair, a hand stroking down your back in soothing circles. When that didn't seem to comfort you, she asked, "Don't you remember the nurses asking Benny to leave?"

Stifling a cry, you sniffed, "No, what are you talking about?"

"I thought you knew."

"Benny stayed?"

"Sure he did, paced all night. Got himself so worked up, he punched a hole in the wall over there! They told him he had to show himself the door or the cops would," Betty explained, the rush of words leaving her mouth so quickly you barely comprehended it all.

You inhaled a deep breath, feeling lightheaded from the relief. "He still wants me?" you mumbled to yourself. There had always been a deep fear coursing through you that someday Benny would take off and never come back. You'd been warned many times he was a man who liked his freedom.

"He still what?" Betty asked, looking at you in confusion. "Sweetie it's none of my business, but I think you should try to sleep now."

Nodding in agreement, you sunk beneath the hospital blankets, exhaustion quickly overtaking your tired mind.

When your eyes reopened, sunlight was pouring through the blinds. A lazy smile spread across your face as you realized your head was no longer pounding with the incessant pain from yesterday. Though your leg now ached in its place and an irritating itch inside your cast was nagging you, somehow you had a good feeling about the day ahead. Stretching your arms above your head, you startled at the sound of a familiar, deep voice.

"Hi baby."

Your heart caught in your chest, too afraid to look if it was actually him.

"Ain't you gonna say hello?" Benny asked, his handsome face hovering over you like a blue eyed angel.

"Oh, Benny," you whimpered, eyes filling with tears.

"Hey, hey...don't cry," he urged, sweeping your hair away for a cautious kiss. You strained to meet the soft press of his full lips against yours, leaning into the gentle touch of his fingertips lacing through your hair. He kept his weight from you, careful not to worsen the bruising he knew you'd sustained to your ribs.

As his beard brushed your cheek, the gravel in his voice rumbled into your chest along with the words you'd longed to hear, "I missed my girl."

"I missed you. What the hell happened?"

Benny chuckled, his teeth shining in that mischievous grin he wore when he knew he'd been caught. His gaze turned toward the crumbling plaster he'd left in the wake of his anger, straightening his denim jacket as he confessed, "Mighta made some trouble."

"I heard," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. "Betty told me, but she didn't say why," you prodded with a raised eyebrow.

Benny pulled up a chair, taking your hand between his large calloused palms. "Listen, I want you to know somethin."

You furrowed your brow uncertain where he was headed.

He rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand as he spoke, his speech slow and tender as you'd never heard him before. A man of few words you weren't prepared for what came next. "I know you don't have kin...kin that claim you anyway." You stared down at his rings, watching them glimmer in the light as he chewed his lip in concentration, choosing his next words carefully. "We been riding together a couple of years now and you gotta know by now that I'll never leave you behind."

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you realized how wrong you'd been, misjudging your boyfriend in a moment of fear. The reputation Benny had as a loner who only looked out for himself simply wasn't true. The love you felt for each other was real, he was telling you so right now. The thought stirred butterflies in your stomach the likes of which you hadn't felt since you met.

Reaching for his face, you cupped his blonde scruff as you proclaimed, "I want to be with you too."

His eyes fell to the floor, thick lashes downcast as he was overcome by a sudden rush of shyness. Perhaps he'd already said too much, revealed a part of himself he kept hidden for fear of exposing weakness. However, you were reveling in it, especially when he raised his head to add another word of praise just for you.

"I was proud of you when we went down. Took it like a champ, you know?"

It was your turn to look away, blush creeping up your neck as you shook your head in vehement denial.

"No, I mean it. The first thing you asked when they got you in here was when you was gonna ride again!" he chuckled at the memory.

"What?" you asked incredulously.

"Yeah, the nurses all thought you were crazy. Said so too," he recalled, bitterness rolling off his tongue. He sighed heavily as he admitted, "That's why I punched the wall."

Staring up at the ceiling, you finally connected all the pieces and let out a little huff. It was soon followed by a snort, then a rolling wave of laughter as you were unable to contain your amusement at your boyfriend's classic impulsiveness. All the hurt and pain melted away as you realized it had all been a wayward attempt to defend you.

"M glad you think it's funny I almost got arrested," he protested.

"And I got a broken leg, Benny!" you countered sternly.

"You win," he conceded with a grin.

Looking down at the cast you turned sullen. "Can't ride with you now."

"Says who?" he asked, drawing close to you. His bright eyes danced with spirited challenge, daring you to defy him.

"I just thought..." you stumbled, feeling all willpower leave your body. When Benny asked something of you, the only answer was yes.

"You go where I go. We make trouble together, remember?" he said, sliding an arm over your waist and pulling you into him for another slow, sensual kiss.

"Sure do, don't we?" you agreed, moving in unison with him. Clutching onto his jacket you asked, "We going home now? I'm done missing you."

[pxnsneverland]

Something Immortal | Biker!Austin Butler x OC (part 1)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

plot summary: In the gritty underbelly of a city ruled by werewolf biker gangs, Austin Butler reigned supreme as the ruthless leader of his pack. A man of unwavering ferocity, he lied, killed, and stole without remorse, living by a code of violence that defined his kind. Yet, even Austin harbored a secret weakness – his childhood friend Bonnie Barlow, the one woman he had loved in silence for years. Bonnie's father had once been part of Austin's gang, but after his death, she fled the treacherous world of the werewolves, unable to stomach the endless cycle of crime and brutality. For five years, she remained a fugitive from her own nature, until a fateful night when her life took an irreversible turn. Freshly released from a two-year prison stint, Austin returned to his pack, reveling in the debauchery of their den. But his revelry was cut short by a frantic call from Bonnie, pleading for his aid. Rushing to her side, he uncovered a grim truth – in a desperate act of self-defense against her abusive boyfriend, Bonnie had taken a life, awakening the dormant werewolf within her. As the next full moon loomed, she would undergo her first agonizing transformation, a fate she had always dreaded. Defying the pack's ruthless code, Austin sheltered Bonnie, guiding her through the excruciating metamorphosis that tore through her body each lunar cycle. In the depths of her torment, their bond rekindled, blossoming into a love they had long suppressed. Nights of shared laughter and reminiscence gave way to stolen moments of tenderness, their connection deepening with every passing moon. Yet, their newfound bliss was a fragile thing, forever threatened by the harsh realities that governed their world. For Bonnie was branded a deserter, her very existence a betrayal in the eyes of the pack. If Austin's treachery was uncovered, retribution would be swift and merciless.

pairings: biker!austin butler x oc

word count: 2746

warnings/notes: violence, mentions of murder, gang activity

Chapter 1: The Alpha's Return

As Austin pushed open the heavy oak door, the overwhelming cacophony of sound hit him like a physical force. The deep bass of the music thrummed through his chest and reverberated in his ears. The mixture of sweat, alcohol, and cigarette smoke assaulted his senses as he made his way into the dimly lit bar. Flickering lights hung haphazardly above the scattered tables and stools, casting shadows that seemed to dance with the rhythm of the music. In one corner of the bar, a group of men gathered around a pool table, their voices loud and boisterous as they cheered on their game. In another corner, a couple was engaged in a heated argument, their voices rising above the din of the bar.

Jerry Thompson, known as 'The Butcher' for his towering stature and imposing presence, immediately spotted Austin from his perch at the bar. Jerry's muscular arms were adorned with intricate tattoos that seemed to come alive with each movement as he stood up to greet Austin. His leather jacket emitted a low creaking sound as he moved, adding to his intimidating aura. With sharp eyes constantly scanning the room, he appeared to be assessing every person and potential threat.

"Austin!" Jerry bellowed with a wide grin, revealing his crooked teeth. Austin returned the gesture with equal enthusiasm and they met in a brief but firm hug, both happy to see each other after so long apart.

"Ace of Spades!" Jerry exclaimed, slapping Austin's back with a hearty laugh. The impact sent vibrations through Austin's body and he couldn't help but grin at his friend's exuberance. His booming voice echoed throughout the dimly-lit bar, drawing the attention of the other patrons. Heads turned, conversations paused, and eyes widened as they caught sight of the alpha in their midst.

"Still got your sense of humor, I see," Austin replied with a smirk. Despite the weariness in his voice, his piercing blue eyes sparkled with a fierce determination that radiated authority. He let his gaze wander around the room, taking in the familiar faces of his pack members and noting the new ones who had joined in his absence. The gang had clearly grown in numbers'.

"The pack's missed you," Jerry said, his deep voice barely audible over the pounding bass of the music. He motioned towards a back booth where a few burly men sat hunched over their drinks, their eyes gleaming under the dim lights. Jerry's eyes darted around the dimly lit room, his body tense with unease. He leaned in closer to Austin, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Things haven't been easy since you've been gone; a few of the newer guys, they don't respect the code... or you."

Austin straightened up, his gaze sweeping over the assembled group. The tension in his posture was palpable as he issued a silent challenge. "Name them," he demanded, his voice laced with authority and steel.

Jerry seemed to hesitate for a moment, his gaze trailing away from Austin’s intense stare. He let out a deep sigh, the weight of the situation evident on his weathered face. Finally, with a heavy hand he pointed towards the corner of the bar where two young bikers were shooting pool. Their boisterous laughter filled the room, oblivious to the fact that they were being talked about.

“Those two. Dal and Jimmy.” Jerry’s voice was rough and gruff, barely audible above the rowdy crowd. “Think they can run things their way. They’ve been challenging your rules ever since you left.”

Austin’s piercing gaze followed Jerry’s finger and then slowly moved to focus on the two men in question. They seemed hardly more than boys really, their matching leather jackets and cocky attitudes giving off the impression of overgrown pups trying to mark their territory. The sight of them sparked something in his chest - a cold, calculated anger that had him clenching his fists at his sides. “I see.” His words were sharp and clipped, void of any emotion except for a simmering rage that only those who knew him well could detect. With a determined stride, he pushed past Jerry and made a beeline towards Dal and Jimmy who were still engrossed in their game of pool. The tension in the room felt palpable as all eyes turned to watch Austin approach the group of challengers. Austin's body visibly trembles with a mix of rage and anticipation as he approaches the oblivious duo. His broad shoulders square up, ready for a fight, while his icy gaze pierces through them like a sharp blade. The laughter dies down around them as they finally notice the Alpha's approach.

Dal, a lanky man with a scar running down the side of his face, meets Austin's stare with a smug smirk that exudes defiance. Jimmy, shorter and stockier with a wild mop of red hair, takes an instinctive step back in fear and quickly averts his gaze under Austin's intense stare.

With a voice full of authority and malice, Austin addresses them. "You got a problem with my rules?”

Dal's smirk twists into a snarl as he leans back against the pool table, crossing his arms over his chest in challenge. "Our problem ain't with your damn rules, Butler," he spits out Austin's title with contempt. "Our problem is with you.”

The pool stick falls from Dal's grip with a loud clatter as he stands, his eyes blazing with anger. "You've been locked up for two years and now you think you can just waltz back in here and reclaim your throne as alpha?" He takes a threatening step forward, his voice dripping with disdain. "We've managed just fine without you, Butler. Who's to say you're still the strongest?"

"Is that a challenge, Dal?" Austin's voice pierced through the dim bar like a shard of ice, freezing the air around them. His crystal blue eyes glinted with a dangerous intensity as they locked onto Dal, who could feel his heart rate quicken under the alpha’s unwavering stare. The muscles in Austin's arms bulged as he stood tall, crossing them over his broad chest in a show of dominance

Dal shifted uneasily, almost feeling physically pinned under the weight of Austin's intense glare. The smirk on his face vanished, replaced by a fierce determination that hardened his features. Meeting Austin's gaze head-on, he squared his shoulders and spoke with a steely resolve, “Yeah, Butler. It is."

Without warning, Austin lunged at Dal with such ferocious speed that he was nothing but a blur. The crowd's hushed gasps were drowned out by the sickening thud of Austin's fist connecting with Dal's face. A fresh cut on his lip oozed blood as he lay sprawled on the ground, his body trembling with pain and shock.The air in the room seemed to thicken with tension as Dal slowly rose to his feet, wiping the blood away with a shaking hand. His gaze locked onto Austin's, filled with a fiery defiance. Without hesitation, he launched himself at Austin, their bodies colliding in a flurry of fists and grunts. But Austin was a force to be reckoned with, easily overpowering Dal with his brute strength and merciless blows. Each punch landed like a sledgehammer, causing bones to crack and skin to split. The smell of iron permeated the air as blood spilled, staining the floor beneath them. Dal was no match for Austin's relentless assault. A thunderous left hook knocked him off balance, leaving him dazed and stumbling. Before he could regain his bearings, Austin charged at him like a raging animal, slamming him back against the pool table.

Pain exploded through Dal's body as he hit the hard surface, gasping for air as if his lungs had been crushed. He struggled to focus through blurred vision, gazing up at Austin who loomed over him like a giant. With one final burst of strength, Dal tried to push himself up off the table, only to receive a brutal kick to the gut that sent him crashing back down. As he lay there, helpless and defeated, all he could taste was blood and defeat in his mouth.

Austin stood over him, chest heaving and fists clenched. His ice-blue eyes were alight with a victorious glint as he looked down at his conquest. The crowd parted in silence, every pair of eyes glued to the spectacle. Austin’s gaze shifted from Dal to the onlookers, his expression stern and unwavering. His voice rang out clear and commanding through the silence, “Let this be a lesson to all of you - I am your alpha, your leader...and I will not tolerate disloyalty or disrespect in my pack.”

He cast a final glance at Dal, then turned towards Jerry who had been watching the scene unfold from the sidelines. The Butcher's face bore a grimace of satisfaction; he approved of what Austin had done. Austin slowly walked back to him, the crowd parting to make way for their leader.

"Painful but necessary," Jerry muttered as he draped an arm around Austin's shoulder, "hopefully this little display of power will keep them in line."

Austin simply nodded his agreement, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. However, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He knew that he had needed to assert his authority but the violent encounter left a bitter taste in his mouth. He hoped that no other member would dare to challenge him; he didn't want to shed any more blood of his own pack. But he would stand his ground and uphold order, no matter the cost.

"Well, that was a helluva welcome back party," Jerry chuckled and slapped Austin on the back. The two walked to the exit, their imposing figures outlined by the dimly lit bar behind them. Austin didn’t respond; his thoughts were elsewhere – on Bonnie Barlow. How would she react to tonight's events? Would she be afraid of him...or for him? As Austin sat in his cell, thoughts of Bonnie consumed his mind. She had been his only source of comfort during his time in jail, and now that he was out, she still lingered in his thoughts. It had been five long years since he last saw her, and he couldn't help but wonder how she had been and what she was up to now. Memories of her petite figure and expressive eyes flooded his mind, stirring a mix of emotions within him. Remorse for the mistakes he made and an intense yearning to see her again. His heart clenched at the reality of his situation. He wasn't just a man – he was an alpha, a werewolf. And Bonnie? She was the quiet beauty who had found her way into his heart, and then fled from the violent world he inhabited. Even as he craved to have her back in his life, Austin couldn’t help but acknowledge the bitter truth. The world he ruled with an iron fist was no place for someone as delicate and empathetic as Bonnie.

With a troubling thought gnawing at his mind, Austin abruptly shrugged off Jerry's arm and strode out into the cool, crisp night air. His heavy boots crunched with each step on the gravel path as he made his way to his motorcycle. The machine stood there like a ferocious animal lying in wait, its metallic body glinting in the moonlight.

"Hey, where you off to?" Jerry called after him, but Austin did not even spare a glance as he pulled on his leather gloves and climbed onto his ride. His mind was too cluttered with thoughts of Bonnie, bittersweet memories that brought both solace and a haunting pain.

The engine roared to life beneath him, a low growl that reverberated through the peaceful night. With one last look at the bar where his pack was still celebrating their leader's victorious return, he revved the engine and tore off into the darkness. The wind whipped against his face as he raced down the deserted roads, slicing through the quiet stillness of the night. He welcomed the chilling gusts, hoping they would blow away the weight of remorse weighing on him. But no amount of speed or distance could erase Bonnie's image from his mind or ease the ache in his heart. His thoughts kept returning to that fateful day five years ago when Bonnie had left.

She had vanished into the ether, leaving behind a void in Austin's life that he couldn't fill. No call, no text, no warning. One day, they were holding each other at her father's funeral - her tears staining his shoulder and his arms wrapped tightly around her. The next day, she was gone, taking all traces of herself with her. Austin searched high and low, calling every number he had for her and knocking on every door he could think of. But she had disappeared without a trace, leaving him feeling lost and alone. Weeks turned into months, which turned into years. The uncertainty of not knowing where Bonnie had gone or even if she was still alive weighed heavily on Austin's mind and heart. He would wake up from nightmares, drenched in sweat and trembling, his thoughts consumed by visions of Bonnie being hurt or in danger. As much as he wanted to protect her like he did when they were younger, he couldn't do anything if he didn't even know where she was.

The soft purr of his motorbike echoed through the stillness, offering him a strange sense of tranquility as he veered down onto the dirt path that led home. Austin’s cabin, nestled in the secluded wilderness away from town, was as rugged and unyielding as he was. A shabby structure with weathered timber walls and a roof so worn it seemed to blend into the overcast night sky. Sliding off his bike, Austin crossed the threshold, stepping into the austere living space. Minimalistic and practical just like him. A stone fireplace dominated one wall, its hearth filled with charred logs from a fire long gone. The rest of the furniture was plain and functional - a worn-out couch, a small dining table, and his bed tucked into an alcove.

He shrugged off his leather jacket and made his way to the worn-out armchair by the fireplace, sinking into its familiar comfort. Pouring himself a glass of whiskey from a dusty bottle, he stared at the golden liquid swirling within. Each drop mirrored years of torment and solitude that had gradually gnawed away at his soul. Drinking was not his means to drown the pain; instead, it was more of a ritual – an acknowledgement of his broken spirit and an attempt to numb the hurt festering within. The air around him crackled as he struck a match and brought it close to the dry logs in the hearth. The fire leaped up instantly, hungry flames lapping at the wood while releasing whispers of smoke into the air. Austin watched the dance of the fire, his mind lost in the glowing depths as he sipped from his glass. The warmth of the Scotch spread through him, a perfect foil to the cold emptiness he had grown accustomed to. The silence of his cabin was only broken by the sporadic crackle of the flames and the quiet hum of woodland creatures outside. This solitude was his sanctuary and yet it was also his prison cell.

The tranquil silence was broken in an instant by a shrill ring that made Austin jump. He quickly realized it was his cell phone, a device he hadn't heard from in what seemed like ages. His fingers fumbled for the familiar weight in his pocket, almost forgetting it had been there this whole time. The screen displayed ‘Unknown’ as the call persisted, daring him to answer and reveal the identity of the caller. Who could be reaching out to him, someone he had not seen at the bar? With a deep breath, Austin pressed accept and brought the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?" His voice came out rough and hesitant.

"Austin," said a soft voice on the other end.

Instantly recognizing the voice that had haunted his thoughts for years, Austin's heart began to race in his chest. The drink in his hand suddenly felt like a lead weight, and he carefully set it down on the small wooden table beside him. His fingers trembled slightly as he tightened his grip on the phone, as if it were the only thing anchoring him to reality.

"Bonnie..."

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

[eternal-love]

FAMILY TREE

‘Give myself up to him in offering. Let him make a woman out of me.”

Feyd Rautha x Arya Atreides!OC

Summary: After Lady Jessica betrayed the Bene Gesserit by giving Duke Leto a son, she tried to make amends with the sisterhood by giving them a daughter— Arya. Turns out the sisterhood wasn’t so forgiving afterwards. Still, they went along with the marriage between an Atreides and the Baron’s youngest nephew, Feyd Rautha Harkonnen. Supposedly they would produce the Kwisatz Haderach. But, one can never find family blood and family cycles.

Author’s note: Listen. I haven’t read the books and I’m not too familiar in writing Feyd. Also, I have yet to discover how some things are called in Giedi Prime or Caladan. So pardon me about it.

TW: Incest (They’re literal cousins, but they don’t know), dub-con, abuse, Stockholm syndrome, violence. The time line is a bit messy since I want all characters to be older.

The minute Arya Atreides was born, her destiny and history was set in stone. Differently than her older brother, Paul Atreides, whom was born out of the love and passion between their parents, Arya knew she was born out of duty. She was raised to be the wife of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the Baron’s youngest nephew. He seemed better. At least better than Rabban, most commonly nicknamed ‘The Beast’.

At the age of fourteen, Arya left Caladan, with her heart broken and sad brown eyes. She traded the fresh and green Caladan for a polluted and gray Giedi Prime.

The wedding was nice in all its aspects, the Harkonnen were drowning in riches, but the atmosphere was black and white thanks to the black sun. Even there, she felt as an outsider still. Wearing a loose intricate black and white gown, with a huge headpiece in her hair. None of her family came. Not even for the dinner for the newlyweds.

What she didn’t know was how sadistic Feyd could be. She have had talks with her mother, Lady Jessica, about pleasing men, about how to make them feel desired but Feyd, he was different. You couldn’t tame him. No, it was impossible.

It didn’t take long before Arya got pregnant and had Feyd’s only child— a son. They were supposed to make the Kwisatz Haderach but Feyd did not want to listen to those damn witches, he wanted a son he could train to be just like him. History repeated itself.

Six years later, it was the coming-of-age ceremony of the Na-Baron, Feyd Rautha. Everyone in Giedi Prime was excited that their very own dear Na-Baron was turning of age. And which better way to celebrate than to have a fight in the Gladiator Arena?

Her servants helped her get ready. Over the years, Arya taught them how to do hair, since no one in Giedi Prime had hair but her. At first, Feyd wanted to force her to shave it off but once he ran his hands through that luscious auburn hair— he immediately got her another circle of servants just to care for her hair.

“Damn it.” Arya groaned as the servant pulled her hair. “Don’t you know how to brush hair?”

Arya stayed quiet, holding back a laugh— she forgot that she was the only woman with hair. The servant took a step back after another one shoved her, they continued doing the hairdo.

After a few minutes, the room door opened. It was the son of Feyd and Arya, Rabban. A sweet boy, long white hair, very pale, blue eyes.

“My dearest love.” Arya sensed her boy, but as she turned around, she saw her boy— beaten up and sad. She hurried to hold his face. “What has happened?”

“Father wasn’t there in my training. My trainer laughed, everyone did…” Rabban looked away, feeling ashamed. His father had raised him to be great! Not this weak and pathetic thing.

“You will be as good as your father one day, perhaps even better.” Arya spoke lovingly. Caressing her little boy’s face.

She may have not looked like him, but she loved this boy as if he was herself reincarnated. She pulled him in for a hug. Something rare in Giedi Prime.

“Go get dressed. We’ll have to be in the arena in a moment.” Arya said softly, her lips pressing together as she ran her hand through Rabban’s white hair.

Rabban listened and exited his mother’s bedchamber. Arya turned around and gave the servants a glaring look as they were staring at her like idiots, not doing their job of dressing her. The servants quickly rushed to her and started to undress her.

The next hour, they were already in the balconies of the Gladiator Arena. Arya was wearing an intricate dark green gown, with decorative chains by her collarbones and a hairpiece with a veil. She and Rabban were sat besides the Baron, sitting straight on her chair, her hands on her lap and a stern face, she used the small binoculars— there they were, Bene Gesserit. She could recognize their veils everywhere.

When Feyd entered, the arena roared. As if everyone in Giedi Prime was blood-thirsty. Arya was disconnected from it, but she had already grown used to it anyways. But her ears perked once she heard that the men he would fight— would be the last remaining of the Atreides. Her house.

She didn’t remember the last time she saw her family. The last thing she heard of them was that the Baron murdered her father. That they basically slaughtered House Atreides. That was her home once, but not now. The Baron looked at her with a smirk and she swallowed, her face still stern, her lips moving a little.

The fight was a blood fest, but she wasn’t thirsty for it. She just wanted her husband to know that she was here, that this time she didn’t hide in her chamber with Rabban. After the victorious battle, the celebrations for Feyd started— this time. He was not present during the feast of indulgence.

Arya knew this tactic. She knew so. So she left the feast and went through the castle’s corridors. She was quick enough to find the Bene Gesserit— Lady Margot Fenring.

“I know your plans, good sister.” Arya was quick to catch up to Lady Margot.

“Then you must know why of those plans. Na-Baroness.” Lady Margot stopped, calm as ever.

“My husband is content with our son. We do not wish to follow the crafted plan of you witche—“

“And that’s exactly why I am here, Arya. You’ve been useless to the sisterhood. You’ve brought nothing but anguish. And now you seem to not follow what we’ve been crafting for centuries.” Lady Margot turned around, facing Arya.

“I’ve done my duty here. I married Feyd, I bore him a child.” Arya spoke firmly.

“A son. A waste of time, a waste of cells. A useless child. We need a girl.” Lady Margot spoke coldly.

“My Rabban is the only child we’ll have. I do not wish to be a puppet in the sisterhood’s plans.” Arya said firmly as she held her head up high.

“You are not a Bene Gesserit. Look at you, not knowing how to use your powers. Powers you inherited from the greatest— our Reverend mother. And yet here you are. Weak.”

Arya rushed to find Feyd afterwards, she wouldn’t let this witch find him first and when she found him wandering around too, she took a deep breath and approached him.

“My darling…” Feyd called Arya.

“You are not in your feast. I worry for you, my love.” Arya spoke softly, reaching for her husband’s arm.

“I do not wish to be part of a spectacle. Not today, at least.”

“The spectacle was the one you out at the gladiator arena.”

“Watch how you talk to me, woman.” Feyd clenched his fist.

Arya scoffed, rolling her eyes before walking closer to him. “That fight it was a insult to me, to my house, to your son, to my blood—”

“Traitor blood, you say— my darling.” Feyd looked at Arya with his ever-menacing look in his eyes.

“Our son would’ve desired respect be shown to his blood.” Arya said, looking up at Feyd. He only smirked.

“Our son or you— Arya Atreides.”

Arya stared at Feyd, tears pricking her eyes. Feyd would often try to mock/insult her by calling her by her birth name. Atreides were considered traitors, disgusting, a dishonorable house— tow which it was slaughtered. But Arya, she would never be able to escape her very own blood.

“You out of all people, should not forget who you are. An outsider among us natives, my darling. It’s because of me that you have a place here. It’s because of me that you weren’t slaughtered too.” Feyd caressed Arya’s cheek, roughly yet gently.

That night, Feyd took Arya, one, two, three, four, five times before he actually grew exhausted. Arya stared at the ceiling. What if she were in Paul’s shoes? She would’ve end up dead but she would have been happy with her parents, not stuck in some foreign planet.

‘But this would all be worth if’ she thought to herself. She would find something for this to be worth it. For all these sacrifices to we worth something.

Perhaps killing the Baron would make it all worth it, if anything— she despised that fat man more than anything. The Baron was very jealous of her, because she took all of Feyd’s precious attention, because she was now Feyd’s motivation, because every kill, every execution, every battle— everything was for her. Not for him no more.

There is a reason why Feyd and Arya talked in whispers when they got near one of the Baron’s slaves.

A slave would say anything he heard if it meant getting their lives spared for one more day.

But Feyd had one goal in mind: be a Baron. He wasn’t a dirty Atreides or a weak Corrino, he was a Harkonnen— he was going to act the Harkonnen way.

Author’s note: This is kinda like an introduction, I hope to update frequently but because I’m in Uni, I’ll probably take long periods. Thank you for reading and I REALLY Appreciate comments! Love y’all!

[maliviawrites]

i have nothing appropriate to say…

[cryingabtab]

Save Me A Spark - Part 15

Warnings: A little bit of angst, drinking

Pairing: Austin Butler x Cassie Hale (OFC)

Word Count: 1.1k

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry this took so long. I think I’m back. <3

“Thank you for the tragedy. I need it for my art.” ~ Kurt Cobain

A few hours after her phone call with Austin, Cassie emerged out of the guest bedroom. Her hair was a mess, sticking out every which way and knotted. A true rat's nest. Her face was puffy, her eyes rubbed raw from wiping tears away. Dark circles surrounded her eyes and the whites of her eyes were red as could be. She looked exhausted. Defeated. Her friends sat in the living room, music playing from the TV’s speakers as they talked amongst themselves. They all turned to look at her as she walked into the room and sat down with them. She said nothing as she took the soft, chunky knit throw blanket off of the back of the couch and wrapped it around herself.

“Hey, Cass,” Rory greeted softly. Her voice was gentle despite the boiling rage she felt because some incompetent man made her best friend feel this way.

“Hi,” Cassie whispered, leaning back into the couch as she looked at her friends.

“How ya feelin’?”

Cassie responded with a simple shrug, her gaze falling into her lap.

Ash spoke up next. “We were just about to order some pizza. Any specific toppings you want?”

Cassie shrugged again. “Just not pineapple.”

Ash nodded, “Pepperoni?” Cassie gave a quick, single nod of approval.

Cassie pulled her phone from her pocket and opened the notes app before passing it to Rory. “I wrote this if you guys wanna read it. It’s a new song,” she murmured. “Also, can we get drunk? I wanna get drunk.”

“We can,” Hazel said with a hesitant sigh. “I think you’d be better off drinking some water, though.” She knew that Cassie would still drink if she really wanted to, and knew that her suggestion would fall upon deaf ears. The best she could hope for was that Cassie would at least rehydrate a little bit before picking up a bottle.

Cassie groaned as she pushed herself off the couch, slipping out of the comfortable warmth that the chunky throw had provided. “Fine. I’ll have some water,” she grumbled. “But after that, I’m getting hammered.”

“Thank you,” Hazel called as Cassie shuffled into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.

Rory was still holding Cassie’s phone. She didn’t want to read the song, not while she was already so wound up from the day’s events. It would only make her angrier. And if she got angrier, she knew that it would be all she would be able to talk about. If that happened, she wouldn’t be able to be there for Cassie like she wanted to be. Rory pressed the side button and watched as the screen turned black, then set it down on the blanket.

Cassie plopped down on the couch a moment later, taking a huge swig out of her water bottle. She looked over at Rory, “Did you read it?”

“I’ll read it later. Promise,” Rory held up her pinky finger. The two linked pinkies and Cassie went back to guzzling down her water.

An hour and several slices of pizza later, Cassie sipped on a wine glass filled to the brim with her favorite red. Well, she wasn’t exactly sipping. The glass was empty in less than five minutes. She grabbed the bottle to pour another, then decided against it. Instead, she brought the bottle to her lips and took a large swig.

“Jesus, Cass,” breathed Ash. “Pace yourself. Remember that time you had to get your stomach pumped?”

Cassie sighed through her nose and set the bottle on the counter. “Yeah, but that was Four Loko. This is wine.”

“I mean, yeah.” She had a point. “But it’s still alcohol and you aren’t in your right mind. Pace yourself.” Ash sighed as she opened a white claw.

Cassie grabbed the bottle again and walked into the living room, plopping down on the couch. She was beginning to feel the warm buzz from the alcohol, and it was a welcome distraction from the overwhelming hurt she’d felt all day. She reached forward where the remote sat on the coffee table and turned off the music that was playing. Groans of protest were heard from her friends, but soon stopped as she turned on Criminal Minds.

She set the remote back down and kicked her feet up, with a small smile on her face as she took another swig from the bottle of red she was holding.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Hazel hummed out from beside her. “But why?”

“Just refreshing myself on what not to do,” Cassie said stoically, not moving her eyes from the screen. “That, and this show has some serious eye candy.”

Rory scooted closer to Cassie and rested her legs on her lap. “You’re telling me. I need Prentiss more than I need air.”

Cassie leaned into Rory, “But Hotch, though? Oh my lord.”

“You two are terrible,” Hazel scoffed jokingly, shaking her head.

“Says the girl who watches Reid edits on TikTok…daily,” Ash chimed in from the kitchen.

“Touché.”

Austin sat exhausted on a flight back to Cincinnati. During his time back in LA, he had finished all the press events and interviews that he had needed to attend. However, he was going back earlier than scheduled. After realizing that the remainder of his time in LA would have been meetings that could easily be accomplished via Zoom, he was packed and ready to go. Of course, his team wasn’t too happy with his decision, but in the end, they worked for him. And he had important things to take care of. After what had happened, some of them wouldn’t even be working for him anymore.

He stared out the plane’s window and watched as the clouds passed by. His puffy eyes squinted against the bright, setting sun. Once he was seeing a concerning amount of sunspots in his vision, he slid the window covering shut and leaned his head against it. His early flight back was completely impulsive. He had a few days before he had to be back on set, which meant he had a few full days to attempt to win Cassie back. And he didn’t even have a plan.

The best he could think of was to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness. But he was almost positive that it wouldn’t work. Rory’s words repeated in his mind like a mantra.

“She is broken. When that passes, she’s gonna be furious. So count your fucking days.”

Then he remembered his last conversation with Cassie, and how she ended the call angrily telling him to stay away from her. He winced at the memory, hunching over to hold his face in his hands. He pinched the bridge of his nose to keep from crying for the nth time that day. She already seemed furious. He just hoped that it wasn’t too late to try. He hoped that he wasn’t too late to help pick up her broken pieces. He hoped that he could do something, anything, to get her to change her mind.

[tommydarlings]

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s done! <3

The new mean!dom!police!officer x sub!reader smut ff is now available to read on my Patreon (extended version -> 3.8k) and in a few minutes available to read here on tumblr (shortened version -> 2.2k)

I’ll happily hear your thoughts about it in the comments, my inbox or my direct messenger!! :)

[austinswhitewolf]

Welcome Home

Hello everyone! It has been a long while since I have posted anything. I went on vacation and then had a bout of writers block. I'm slowly easing back into writing now and this was what helped me back. Hope you like it. I love the concept of shifters. <3

Austin had been gone for a good solid two months filming while you had stayed home, not being able to get away from work to travel with him. It had been extremely hard for the both of you, not normally being away from each other this long. Being shifters, you were always touching each other in some way when out and in public. People had started to label that as you being clingy but Austin had shut that down almost instantly, making a rare instagram post about how much he loved you and that is all that mattered. 

You would normally go to the airport to pick him up when he was gone for shorter amounts of time. But with him being gone so long this time, you both had decided that you would wait at home for him. It would be way too public for how much the two of you would need each other's touch.

The only thing that had kept you sane was his scent all around the house, wearing his sweatshirts to bed and shirts around the house. Austin had taken one of your scarves as well as a few of your sweatshirts. Your scent had permeated every fiber of the scarf. You periodically saw pap pictures of him leaving set or out and about in his free time with your scarf around his neck, though it worked well since it was the middle of winter. 

You were baking while waiting, trying to keep yourself busy so not to think about Austin being home today. The entire kitchen smelled of baked goods as they were cooling on the island. One of Austin’s soft fluffy sweatshirts was hanging off your shoulders, his scent wafting around you. 

As you reached forwards to turn the oven off, you felt a light push to the back of your head. Just as your head tilted forwards slightly, Austin nuzzled his nose and forehead along to the side of your head. His arms slid around your waist as you felt him breathe you in. Your eyes slid shut immediately at the movement from him. The entire world fell away in that moment. A deep rumble filled the air, and you could feel it against your back. This pulled a reciprocal purr from you. Austin turned you around and pulled you against him firmly. You buried your face in his neck, nuzzling just under his jaw where his scent was strongest. It was intoxicating to you, your hands curling into him, not wanting any space between you. Scooping you up into his arms, it was only moments before you were in your bedroom and he was placing you down onto the bed. Just barely peeling you off him, he was quick to shed his jeans, jacket and shirt. You let out a soft whine when he pulled away but when you saw what he was doing, you kicked off your lounge pants and his sweatshirt as well. Before you could think, Austin had crawled up the bed to you, curling his long body around you and nuzzling into your neck taking deep pulls of your scent into his lungs.

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

You didn’t know what time it was, just that it was dark outside when you woke up having to use the bathroom. It took a few minutes to extricate yourself from Austin’s arms slowly enough to not wake him up. 

As you walked into the bathroom, you smiled at how his scent covered you. Sure you were both sticky and happily sore, but he was back home with you. In only the few minutes it took you in the bathroom, Austin had shifted forms and his large lean golden body filled up half of the California king bed. His soft silky mane was sticking up in every direction. Warmth filled your heart at the image in front of you. Sliding back into bed, you gently slid under and between his front legs. His paws were the size of your face. A soft almost giggle slid from your lips as he stretched, having felt your movement against him. Austin cracked an eye open at the noise and let out a large yawn right in your face while curling his front leg around you to pull you tighter against him. Another soft laugh left you at this though when he moved his head back and licked up the entire side of your face you let out a noise of indignation. A happy chuff left him before his rumbling purr filled the room.

[burninlovebutler]

30 - It's Not Living // Forever Winter Series

pairing: austin butler x fem!oc | word count: 2.3k

summary: austin copes with the weight of his bad decisions with the help of a new vice. while aspen remains blinded by her feelings and her own addiction, she invites nox over for an in-house visit to help curb austin's withdrawals.

warnings/notes: drug use lol, withdrawals, addiction, shitty/angry austin, yelling, austin spiraling, nox, sad but important for plot, 18+ MDNI

see masterlist for chapter log + all other fics 💫

vibes -> fw playlist❄️

-AUSTIN-

I winced when the bright sunshine burned my freshly opened retinas. “Fuck.” I groaned. Once I had gained some more consciousness, I patted around the bed to find it empty. An immediate feeling of relief, then sadness washed over me at the absence. It made me ponder where I stood with Aspen; having her here constantly and being so… needy was suffocating. But on the other hand, it was comforting not being alone. God knows where I’d be without company through this down spiral. It’s not like it was the worst company you could have – she was kind, soft, caring, funny – and the fun we had. Maybe it was just the aftershock from her ‘I love you’ slip.

Suddenly, there was a hunger pain in my stomach and it crept up my ribcage - it climbed up each rib like a ladder until it was curled up in my throat. It wasn’t hunger for food but something else. I pulled myself to the edge of the bed, letting my feet hit the floor and shaking away the gnawing feeling. My nose suddenly scrunched at a familiar sweet scent filling the room. Using both hands to push myself off the mattress, I weakly made my way towards the kitchen.

The minute I rounded the corner I stopped in my tracks. There was Elsie, fluttering around my kitchen. I watched her wavy brown locks bounce as she wiggled a pan then tossed it upwards to flip a pancake in the air.

Pancakes – I knew that I knew that scent, it smelt like home. While having Elsie in my kitchen after everything was jarring, it was also greatly comforting. Maybe this would make everything okay, maybe pancakes could fix this too; they always fixed everything before.

“Els–“ I began but then Aspen abruptly swung the front door open.

“Aspen.” I sighed out, slightly annoyed and anxious.  

She went to the counter and dropped a pile of mail onto the marble. She knitted her brows at my tone, “Yes?”

I gestured my hand over to the kitchen with lifted brows, “Hello?”

She turns to the kitchen and I follow her gaze, we both land on the same thing.

A completely empty black and white kitchen.

“What? I know the muffins aren’t done yet I-” Her voice faltered as she looked back at me, confused. “What’s wrong?”

One thing you could never underestimate is a woman’s intuition – and by the way she looked at me, I knew she knew something was up.

“Oh, oh,” I fake laughed and waved away the question, “Oh nothing.”

She eyed me curiously, “Okay…” Setting her bag on the counter. “Well, I have some bad news – well I have good news and bad news.” She scrunched her face like she was waiting for impact.

“Oh god, what.” I sighed, letting my hands fall to my sides.

“Well… bad news is, that none of the girls at work could get me anything.” She fidgeted with the silver rings wrapped around her boney fingers.

It was too early in the morning for me to be receiving such bad news. “Okay, well what’s the good news?”

She smiled wide, “Nox is coming home sooner than I thought, so he’ll be back and we can re-up then.”

My fingers curled into a tight fist, “How soon.”

The next succession of days blurred together into a fuzzy haze. Aspen had barely left my loft, only for her shifts at the club and to get food. The entire weight of the past two weeks settled an overwhelming ache pulsing in my blood vessels. Between Christmas, the plan with Nox, Aspen, New Years and the morning after, this had been the most unstable I’d felt in a long time. Maybe even since my Dad’s passing – maybe even before Elsie.

Everything was just shitty – and it was because of me.

None of this would’ve happened if I had just kept my hands off of things that didn’t belong to me – if I kept them off my best friend.

If I hadn’t relapsed, I wouldn’t have been cornered with the plan that landed Aspen in my lap in the first place.

The details and the technicalities didn’t matter, I just didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to feel. I didn’t want to let myself dwell on the specifics, on all the ways I fucked up, all the ways I was a shit person. I wanted to forget.

And Aspen helped to do exactly that. When my cock was in her mouth, when she was lighting my blunts, when she was pouring pills in my hand, when she was offering me lines, when she was sharing bottles of alcohol with me, she was doing exactly what Nox had intended her to do – distract me.

It hadn’t even been a week since Aspen’s ‘I love you’ and after I’d already finished the bottle of Percocet she’d given me. The little white pills were meant to be temporary, just to get over the hump of Xanax withdrawals while Nox was away– but as the absence of everything settled, panic began to fill the space. I knew I could handle the Xanax, I knew it like the back of my hand. Since college I’d learned how to deal with it, even when it got bad. But this…this was a beast I was never prepared to battle. 

Xanax felt like a distant memory in the skyline of my mind. The only thing that took up any space in my head were those new pills. They put on little plays in the corners of my mind, they sang melodies into my ears drums. They were all I wanted, all I cared about, all I thought about.

In the midst of my withdrawals, the panic, the guilt from Elsie, and Aspen’s slip, tension was thick in the air between me and Aspen. I tried my best to stay calm, I really fucking did. But this comedown was nothing I’d ever felt before. I was just so ferociously angry all the time, at any and everything. I felt the aching need and the pure rage in my bones; it buried itself into the deepest crevices of my blood marrow.

I knew we’d end up in this situation eventually, where we’d run out and I’d end up in detox agony – or maybe I lied to myself and made the empty goal to not let it get to that point. But there we were.

This particular day, fury was burning holes through my veins, and Aspen’s lack of tidiness was my last straw. I stomped over to the bedroom, “I need you to come with me right now.” 

“What? Why?” She squeaked and the pitch of her voice only amplified the skull splitting migraine I’d felt for the past 3 days.

I didn’t reply and simply pulled her by the cuff of her babypink sweater to the kitchen. “This.” I pointed to the lukewarm milk left on the counter. “How many times have I told you not to fucking leave the milk on the fucking counter.” The harsh words slipped through my lips before I could stop them. There was a tinge of guilt as they left me.

“Austin, what the fuck are you talking about?” She scrunched her brows perplexed. “That’s not even-”

“I’ve told you multiple times to not leave the milk out.” I spat out, repeating myself through gritted teeth, “Now the milk is spoiled.” I felt as though I was talking to a toddler.

She raised her brows in surprise, “I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about, I didn’t leave anything out.” She replied feigning innocence.

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose between my middle finger and thumb attempting my best to remain calm. “Can you please stop fucking lying? I told you yesterday, literally right here in this very spot, to not leave the milk out.”

“Austin I-I don’t, we just,” She stuttered her way through, taking a step back from me.

“Oh my god Aspen, you can’t even admit to your own mistake?”

“I just, well I, I just don’t-” She faltered.

“Spit it out Aspen, what!”

“I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about,” She paused, “I don’t even drink milk, and,” An even longer pause while her eyes lingered on the half-gallon of dairy on the counter. “Aus, that’s orange juice.”

The room began to spin, and I stumbled back a step, “I uh- Yeah, yeah that’s what I meant, the orange juice.” I cleared my throat, “I told you not to leave out the orange juice.”

“Aus,” She held a breath before exhaling it, “I wasn’t even here yesterday, remember? I was working all day.” She took a step towards me, and going to place the back of her hand on my forehead, “You feelin’ okay?”

Reflexively, I smacked her arm away from me, “No Aspen, I don’t fucking feel good, I’ve been detoxing for the past 3 days. I feel like fucking ass right now.”

“Babe, I’m sorry. I couldn’t get anything from anyone.” Her tone was sad, like she knew she was disappointing me. “But Nox will be home in two days, so he’ll be able to come over.” She crossed the space between us and gently tucked some of my overgrown blonde hair behind my ear, “Okay? We just gotta make it two more days okay?”

Just two more days. 

My front door jiggled open with the shuffle of two people coming through the door.

“Aus, we’re here.” Aspen called, the chill of winter hanging in her voice.

I spent the day in bed watching the ceiling and trying to smoke enough weed to stave off how miserable I felt. There was a brief moment of silence before her words had fully processed in my slowed mind. I closed my eyes and took a sharp inhale, both to prepare myself but also to gather enough strength to unglue from the engulfing mattress.

A rather unsettling feeling swirled in my stomach when my eyes landed on Nox in my kitchen. However, when I remembered that he didn’t come empty handed, there was an immediate wash of relief. Out of all the people in the world, my best friend’s shitty boyfriend shouldn’t be someone I got excited about seeing.

“There’s my man!” Nox beamed his signature disturbing grin. He threw an arm around my shoulders tugging me close in some fucked up half bro hug. The weight of his arm on my shoulders felt like sandbags. He pulled away and briefly inspected me, no doubt getting joy out of my bloodshot eyes lined with dark circles and pale broken out skin. “God you’ve never looked better.” His sarcasm sounded so genuine, maybe it wasn’t a lie that I never looked better to him.

Like straight out of a movie scene, he plopped down what looked like a high-end lawyer’s suitcase, unclasping each side of the locks before pulling up the lid. Inside was an addict’s candy land, the variety of substances seemed to hold anything you could possibly ever imagine. “So what’s it gonna be Butler? Take your pick.”

The air in the room became dense, like I was inside the walls of a cinder block. My eyes drifted between him and the full inventory.

I was really doing this. This was really happening.

“I uh-“ Running my tongue between my lips, then turned to Aspen. “What do you want babe?” Maybe if I gave her the responsibility, I would somehow make myself less accountable for our decisions.

She let out a small giggle then proceeded to point out the usual suspects. Pills, green, and powder. I gave Nox a nod confirming the decision and a smile curled across his lips, “Perfect!”

When Nox began gathering the products, I realized Aspen had made a mistake. It was the pure desperation that forced my hand to latch onto his wrist, shock flashed over his face before my eyes met his. “Not that one.” I stated lowly and he furrowed his brows in confusion. “I– We want Oxy.” 

It took a brief moment for Nox to put together the pieces but when he did, a sinister beam spread across his face, “Well, well, quite an upgrade we’ve made huh?” 

I crossed my arms, retracting into myself, “Can we just have some fucking Oxy.” I snapped, the anger bubbling up in me again. I was so close to tasting relief and he was just fucking around. 

He scoffed and shook his head, plucking a pill bottle from the case, holding it up and giving it a shake in my eyeline, “I wouldn’t be so hasty with your words with someone who’s holding your fix.” 

My brows lowered and my eyes felt like laser beams, but he was right, I couldn’t do much more than that. He held my salvation in his grimey tattooed hands.

“That’s what I thought.” He set down the bottle on the table. “I don’t have pure oxy, only Percocets.” He stated as he plucked the other parts of our order from his briefcase and set them aside in one little pile of substances. I nodded in acceptance.

Out of reflex, or maybe kindness, Aspen went to grab her wallet to pay but my hand landed on her arm. “You don’t need to.” I said simply.

Nox glanced over at Aspen with a crooked grin, “Don’t worry darlin’, your boyfriend and I got a little deal, you’re covered.”

“Oh.” She replied softly, retracting her hands back into herself and looked down at her fidgeting hands. 

After Nox packed his pharmacy up, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, “Good doin’ business with ya Butler.” He leaned into me, near my ear whispering, “And if you don't wanna lose your supply chain, don’t ever talk to me like that again, got it?” He landed a heavy pat on my back, knocking all the wind out of me.

Before the front door closed behind him, the pill bottle was twisted open and there was already a pill down my throat. 

I felt the torment of a comedown like that and I didn’t plan to feel it again.

Next Chapter -> 31 - Mr. Percocet

Thank you for every like, reblog or comment, it means the world to me truly. I love hearing your thoughts and I'm glad you're liking my little story 💗

Sorry this update is so late 😅 and perhaps not the most interesting/fun but it is important to the plot! More eventful chapters are coming next 💗

Tag list: @cryingabtab @slowsweetlove @feverdreamcaoilainn @denised916 @julie181 @navsblog @michellelv @suspiciouselvis @presleysdarling @eddiesgorlie @ranaissingle @malachimochi @purejasmine @coloradohighs @fxckingfantasy @elvispedro

(if you'd like to be added pls comment 💗)

[austinbutlerslovers]

Quick-Take

Label Mature 18+

Summary Austin is exhausted from jet lag on set for Breitling, his passion diminishing until your quick thinking gives him several minutes of clarity in his trailer.

🔗 Masterlist

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Austin devoted boyfriend • over worked• stressed• needs affection• Austin’s love language •supportive girlfriend • stress relief• quickie in a trailer• p in V• over a counter• don’t make a sound• semi private• Austin pleasure bonded • orgasm • cream pie•aftercare

Quick-Take

It’s a crisp morning in the middle of the desert, the Breitling timepiece photoshoot set busy with strained energy beneath a relentless sun.

Hills line the horizon around you, dotted with shrubs, as the vast, cloudless sky blazes overhead.

The crew hustles around, tweaking lights, and hollering directions, while Austin stands in the center of it all.

He’s dressed in blue jeans hugging his lean frame, a matching blue shirt tucked tight into the waist, secured with a brown leather belt

His outfit is rugged perfection, and you watch him shoot a few scenes, striding toward the camera with purpose, and when he turns to walk away his great ass in those jeans steals your focus entirely.

Austin looks hot, there’s no question, but his mood is completely off.Jet lag’s got him in a chokehold, you both arriving fresh off a red-eye flight thanks to his relentless career schedule, and his usual easy going charm is wearing thin under the exhaustion.

You’re off to the side, sipping water under a hanging tarp to beat the dry heat, keeping an eye on him.

He glances over with a little smile, hands on his hips, until it’s time for photos. Then he’s back to stern, his brows furrowed, jaw tight.

You can’t help but notice the way they frame his perfect side profile, broad shoulders tapering down to that slim waist, hand cocked on his hip accentuating the curve of his ass.

But as his eyes flicker with a weary squint, you know he’s about to crash, there��s no hiding it.

Every time the photographer calls, “Tilt your head, Austin,” or “Give me more intensity,” he complies, but his eyes scream he’s over it.

He’s in one of his moods, too polite to speak up, too tired to fake it fully. Still, he keeps it together, offering that sensual, yet slightly edgier look the camera craves, playing it cool like the pro he is.

The Breitling watch gleams on his wrist, catching the light with every forced pose, but the tension’s simmering just beneath the surface.

The photographer finally calls for a break, and Austin slinks over to the folding chair near you, his name bold across the back.

He slumps into it with a low groan, rubbing his temples, his brown hair a little over-gelled from the styling team’s earlier efforts and you slide in beside him, offering comfort any way you can.

“You’re killing it out there,” you say, keeping it light.

He glances up at you, and for a second, his guarded expression softens. A shy grin tugs at the corner of his lips, barely there but enough to make your chest warm. “Yeah?” he says, his voice low and gravelly from exhaustion. “Thanks. Feel like I’m running on fumes, though.”

“You’re hiding it well,” you say, giving him a playful glance. “Seriously, you look so good in this outfit Austin the blue denim is really working for you.” You confess your eyes trailing over him, lingering on the way the jeans cling to his thighs.

He huffs a small laugh, running a hand through his hair, and you catch the faintest flush on his cheeks. He’s still off, still wound tight, but you can tell he appreciates the effort. You just want him to shake off the gloom, to see that spark he usually carries. He’s too pretty to be this miserable.

You let your fingers trail up his shoulders, squeezing the tight muscles beneath his blue shirt as you lean in, your voice dropping softly. “You’ve got this,” you whisper, fingers sliding higher, tracing the line of his shoulders until you graze the edge of his collar.

He turns to you, his blue eyes soft with a quiet ache flickering in them. “I need you so damn much right now,” he says, his voice low and rough.

His words hit deep, a raw edge to them that tightens your chest, and before he can say more, the director calls for the next shot.

You squeeze his shoulder one last time, and he brushes your hand gently as he gets up.

You watch him walk through the desert heat, climbing up and sitting at the top of a ladder for the next shot, the sandy hills framing him perfectly.

He’s supposed to look brooding, focused, but instead he looks lost under the intense sun, reflectors glaring into his blue eyes, squinting hard, with his brows furrowed.

The photographer’s directions pile on, “Elbows on your knees,” “Hands too low, I need to see the watch, Austin,” “Too stiff.” Austin keeps correcting himself, but it’s not working his minds not in it, and his head dips low as he exhales a frustrated breath.

The director’s voice cuts through, sharp and measured. “Alright, let’s break for wardrobe and set up for the quick take shot.” He calls, and Austin climbs down, his composure cracked as he heads straight for you, defeat in his eyes.

You pull him into your arms, his solid body a little too warm as your hands rest on his jaw, drawing his blue eyes to meet yours. “What do you need, baby?” you ask softly.

“I can’t keep it together out here… just need a minute,” he responds, his voice hushed, and there’s no hesitation as he takes your hand, pulling you toward his silver Airstream trailer parked stabilized off in the sand.

His grip is firm, his pace hurried, like he’s chasing relief and you’re the only one who can provide it.

As soon as the door locks shut, sealing out the desert glare, he’s already spilling his desperate thoughts. “Fuck, babe, I can’t think straight,” he rasps, voice low and frayed.

He paces for a moment, restless, until you tease half-serious, “You want a quickie in the trailer?”

His eyes light up instantly. “Yes,” he says, and you feel a thrill surge through you as he closes the distance fast, pulling you into his arms as his lips meet yours in a fierce and hungry clash.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, hot and insistent, tasting faintly of mint as he kisses you deeper, a starved groan rising from his throat. His hands grip your face, pulling you even closer, like he can’t get enough.

He breaks the kiss breathless, his hands spinning you around quick and pressing you against the front room counter. “Been losing my mind out there… need to fuck you so bad, it’s the only thing that’ll pull me together.”

You grin, voice teasing as you brace your hands against the edge, the cool metal digging into your palms. “This is the big plan? Screwing me senseless to survive this shoot?” you say, breathless with a playful edge.

“Hell yes,” he says his voice tense, fumbling with his belt in a frantic rush, the brown leather clinking wildly as he yanks it loose.

His fingers snag the zipper of his jeans, tugging it down in one sharp pull as he shoves the denim low enough to free himself.

His cock springs out, thick and hard, and he hikes your skirt up with a rough pull. “Need you… fuck, I need you so much,” he groans, yanking your panties down, exposing your ass to him. His fingers grip your thighs, spreading you open with a low groan, his tip already slick as he presses it against you.

You bite your lip to stifle a whimper, the trailer walls thin enough to make you both hyper-aware of the crew milling a distance away outside. He lines himself up, nudging against you before he pushes in, thrusting deep in a hurried rush that slams his hips into yours.

Your fingers dig into the counter, a quiet, “Mmm,” slipping out despite your best efforts, the pleasure spiking fast as a choked off sound escapes him and he settles inside, the tight heat of you swallowing him whole.

His body jolts, a shudder ripping through him, and he presses himself closer, pulling you against him, his breaths jagged against your neck. “So good..need you so fuckin’ much,” he says softly, his voice breaking as he clings to you, his hands roaming you with an insatiable need.

He’s not gentle or rough, just desperate, and he thrusts into you fast and messy, like he’s chasing salvation. His hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts through your shirt, squeezing hard enough to make you arch into him. “Can’t get enough of you,” he pants, fingers trailing back down to dig into your hips, pulling you tighter against him as he thrusts, harder, deeper, his belt clinking sharply with every snap of his hips.

Soft whimpers spill from you, your pleasure washing over you as you melt into his touch, a quiet “Oh, Austin” slipping past your lips in a breathy plea.

He groans low, loving how you sound, his breaths catching against your ear, each one a rough whisper of his need as he loses himself in you.

The denim of his jeans chafes against your thighs, the zipper’s teeth grazing your skin as he drives into you faster with a frantic need.

You both try to keep it quiet, stifling moans, but it’s a losing battle. He’s fucking you like he’s trying to empty every ounce of stress into you, and your meeting him on every thrust, your brains melting in the heat of pleasure.

His cock slides inside you, thick and pulsing, hitting the spot that makes your knees buckle, and he clamps his hand over your mouth muffling the loud moans falling from lips. “You want everyone to hear what I’m doing to you?” he asks and you shake your head, breathless.

He groans low and stifled, the sound vibrating against your spine, and you can tell he’s trying to bite down on his noise, satisfying you while losing himself completely.

His pace turns erratic, thrusting wildly, your body rocking hard with the force of it. His hand leaves your mouth, gripping your hips, squeezing your ass, trailing back to your breasts to pinch and knead your nipples.

Your head tilts back, choked-off sounds escaping your throat as your walls tighten and flutter around his cock, clenching him tight in the heat of pleasure.

“Please, baby, come for me,” he whispers, voice shaking with need. “I need it…need to feel you, need to know how good you feel on my cock.”

His thrusts turn relentless, so fast your body shakes, a trembling mess as he pounds into you. His fingers slip down, rubbing your clit in tight circles in time with his hips, and a loud moan escapes you as you come, your walls clenching hard around him

His hand covers over your mouth again, stifling the little sounds spilling from you, and he groans in pleasure, his breaths releasing in quick, uneven bursts against your neck.

You can feel the weight of the day slipping off of him, each shuddering exhale carrying away the tension that’s been crushing him.

His hands suddenly drop to your hips, anchoring himself as he comes with a deep, shaky groan that echoes in the small space. He buries his cock deep, hips stuttering, as a guttural, “Fuck,” slips out before he can stop it.

His cock throbs inside you, spilling hot and thick, and the feel of it, him letting go and filling you up, sends a shiver through you.

His hands grip your ass, pulling you flush against him as he rides it out, chest heaving, lazily drawing you closer with each slowing thrust. He rests his head against the side of yours, his soft sighs of relief slipping from him warm and quiet against your skin.

“Feeling better?” you grin, breathless, your voice light with a tease.

He lets out a winded laugh, pulling out slowly and tucking his cock back into his jeans with trembling fingers. “Yeah,” he rasps, his voice soft and wrecked, “Much better.”

He turns you to face him, and he kisses you, his lips brushing yours with a tender, lingering press before he pulls back, his shy smile breaking through.

“You’re so good to me,” he praises, his voice warm and low, and you grin, catching the spark flickering back into his eyes.

Your hand presses gently against his jaw. “The quick shot, baby,” you remind him, and his face shifts with a determined nod, focus snapping back into place.

He quickly peels off the blue shirt and jeans, tossing the clothing onto a chair in the corner of the trailer.

You fix yourself up while he puts on his second outfit, a crisp white tee that hugs his frame just right and a pair of sleek black jeans that make him look effortless.

He pulls everything on, running a hand through his hair, then he turns to you with an eager expression awaiting your approval.

You step closer, tilting your head as you take him in. “You look great, very vintage Austin,” you tease, grinning as your hands trail down the front of his tee.

He chuckles, ducking his head with his shy edge creeping back into his smile. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” you nod, stepping around him to grab his guitar from its stand in the corner.

The sleek acoustic has been sitting there all morning, untouched, and you hold it out to him. “Why don’t you bring some of you into this shoot? It’d go perfect with the Breitling vibe, timeless and classic, but with your edge.”

His eyes light up, and he takes the guitar from you, fingers brushing yours as he does. “That’s… actually a really good idea,” he says, his voice lifting with a spark of excitement.

He strums a soft chord testing it out, and you can see the gears turning. “Yeah,” he says, nodding to himself. “Yeah, I’m feeling that.”

He looks at you, and before you can react, he steps in close, cupping your chin with one hand and pressing a kiss on your lips full of gratitude.

His thumb brushes your cheek as he pulls back,“You’re a genius, you know that?” he says, his voice lifting with a smile “Thanks for pulling me out of my head.”

You laugh, a little breathless. “I just want you to have some fun out there.”

He grins full-on this time, no hesitation and heads back out to the set, guitar in hand.

You trail behind, watching as he takes charge. “Hey,” he calls to the crew, “can we get my bike out here? The black one behind the trailer?”

The team scrambles, and soon enough, the sleek motorcycle is rolled into the frame, its chrome glinting as the crew works to set up the lighting.

Austin sits on the couch in front of his trailer as he waits with the natural swagger he’s got locked down. He strums a few chords on his guitar, loose and easy, letting his fingers dance over the strings.

The photographer catches it, snapping away as the videographer joins in, rolling footage while Austin glances over at you with a playful smile.

You cross your arms, grinning back, and he adds his own flair tilting his head just so, the Breitling watch flashing as he shifts his grip on the guitar.

Once the bike is set up Austin sets the guitar down against the couch as the makeup and hair artists swoop in for a final touch-up, dabbing his face and tousling his hair a bit more.

Then he pauses, a new idea sparking in his eyes as he ducks into his trailer, emerging moments later with one of his favorite leather jackets.

He shrugs it on, the fit snug across his shoulders, as he strides toward his motorcycle parked in the middle of the set.

The crew watches, hooked, as he moves with purpose, posing  with one hand on the bike’s handlebar, the other crossed over his chest, fingers splayed to showcase the Breitling watch perfectly, the sleek metal glinting in the light.

Then, he shifts, planting both hands on the handlebars, standing in a wide, commanding stance over the bike, legs braced in the sand, exuding raw confidence.

The crew’s eating it up, and you can tell he’s back in his stride, as the shoot transforms into something alive, something him, raw, cool, and effortlessly authentic.

By the time they call it a day, the photos are gold. The photographer’s buzzing about all the shots and footage they’ve done, and Austin is practically glowing with that quiet pride he carries.

He walks over to you, slinging an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Couldn’t have done it without you, baby,” he says, his voice warm as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Breitling’s gonna owe you one.”

You laugh, leaning into him, the familiar weight of his arm grounding you. “I’m just happy to see you happy,” you confess, and his grin widens, soft and real.

With the stress melted away, he’s back to being the Austin you know full of charisma and charm, just needing a quick moment of clarity to be himself.

END 👖

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me List @purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @dunevitani @unicoo @thejoywillburnoutthepain @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @stars-remain2 @skulliecadaver-blog @jjubilee-fluff

[movingmusically]

can you do a austin butler x reader imagine where Austin and the reader get in an argument because austin is so worked focused that he barely makes time for their relationship. Because of the argument the reader leaves Austin for like two weeks but they eventually make up and things get better.

Word Count: 11.9k

Masterlist

The Space Between Us

You

The clock on the wall reads 11:42 PM when Austin finally walks through the door. You don’t look up at first. You just sit there on the couch, TV playing something you’re not really watching, fingers curled around the sleeve of your sweatshirt. You’d been waiting.

Again.

Austin doesn’t seem to notice the tension in the air as he drops his keys onto the counter, his phone still in his hand, scrolling through whatever email or message he missed in the past thirty seconds. “Hey, baby,” he murmurs distractedly, barely glancing at you as he toes off his boots. “Sorry I’m late. Filming ran over.”

Your chest tightens. Of course it did. You force yourself to take a slow breath before replying, keeping your voice even. “It always does.”

That makes him pause. Not fully, but enough that his thumbs stop moving over his phone screen for a second before he finally looks up. “What?”

You shake your head, staring at the TV, even though you couldn’t name a single thing that just happened in the show. “Nothing.”

Austin exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he walks closer, finally slipping his phone into his pocket. “Come on, don’t do that,” he says, his voice laced with tired frustration. “What’s wrong?”

You let out a sharp, humourless laugh. What’s wrong? What’s wrong is that you’ve been having this exact conversation for months—sitting on this same couch, waiting up for him, trying to be okay with the fact that you are slowly becoming just another thing he keeps pushing aside. You look at him now, really look at him, and he doesn’t even seem to realise it. So you brush it off. You swallow it down like you always do, because maybe you’re just overreacting, right? Maybe you’re being unfair. You inhale sharply, forcing a small, tight-lipped smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

Austin sighs, running a hand through his hair before pulling his phone out again, scrolling absently. “Oh—” he mutters, reading something. “Sunday… shit, I forgot I’ve got dinner with that producer. Shouldn’t take long, though.”

Your stomach drops. Sunday. You stare at him for a second, heart pounding, trying to see if this is some kind of joke. Because Sunday? You already had plans. Plans that had been made weeks ago.

“Austin,” you say slowly, voice too even, too careful. “We’re supposed to go to dinner on Sunday.”

He frowns slightly, still looking at his phone. “What?”

“For my sister’s birthday.”

That makes him freeze. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and you see the exact moment he realises. The moment he remembers. Shit. Your throat tightens. “We’ve had it planned for weeks.”

Austin swears under his breath, rubbing his face, shaking his head. “Babe, I—I’m sorry. I completely forgot.”

You nod stiffly, feeling the pressure build behind your eyes. “Yeah. I figured.”

“I’ll—I’ll try to move the meeting,” he says quickly, straightening up. “I can talk to them, see if—” “Don’t,” you cut him off, voice flat. “It’s fine.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s fine, Austin.” You let out a breath, forcing a tight smile. “I’ll just go alone. Again.”

Austin exhales, stepping closer, reaching for you. “Baby, come on, I—”

But it’s too late. Because now you see it all so clearly. How many times you’ve made excuses for him. How many times you’ve shown up alone, smiled at your family and told them, he’s just really busy right now, but he wishes he could be here. How many times he’s forgotten. Not just small things. Big things. Things that mattered to you. You feel something snap inside you. And suddenly, you can’t do this anymore. You stand up abruptly, and Austin blinks in surprise as you brush past him, heading for the bedroom.

“Y/N,” he sighs, turning to follow you. “Seriously, what is this about?”

Your fingers curl into fists at your sides as you spin around, finally meeting his gaze head-on.

“This is about the fact that I feel like I don’t even exist in your life anymore, Austin!” The words come out louder than you expected, but once they start, you can’t stop. “You’re always on set, always working, always answering a million calls and emails, and I get it—I do. Your career is important, you’ve worked so hard to get here, and I would never ask you to choose between that and me. But I can’t be the only one making time for us.”

Austin’s face tightens. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. “Tell me, when was the last time we spent more than a few hours together without you being distracted by work?”

Austin exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Y/N. I mean, this is just how it is right now. You knew my schedule wouldn’t be easy.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, stung by how dismissive that sounds. “I knew it wouldn’t be easy,” you repeat, voice quieter now. “But I didn’t think it would feel like this.”

Austin’s expression falters, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Like what?”

Like I’m always waiting for you to come home. Like I don’t matter enough for you to make time. Like I’m slipping further and further away from you, and you don’t even see it. But you can’t say any of that. Because if he doesn’t already know—if he hasn’t already felt the weight of it, too—then what’s the point? Instead, you just shake your head, backing toward the dresser and grabbing your overnight bag.

Austin’s brows pull together. “What are you doing?”

You don’t answer, not right away. You just start packing.

“Y/N,” his voice is sharper now, more alert. He steps forward, his presence suddenly unshakable, right in front of you. “Hey. Stop for a second.”

You don’t.

“Y/N,” he tries again, this time softer. “Where are you going?”

You hate how your hands tremble when you shove clothes into the bag, hate how your voice cracks when you say, “I don’t know, Austin. But I can’t just sit here waiting for you to remember I exist.”

Silence. Thick and heavy.

His jaw tightens. “So what? You’re just gonna leave?”

You freeze. Then you look up at him, and something inside you snaps. “I already feel like I’m not here half the time, Austin.” Your voice wavers, but you don’t look away. “So yeah. I guess I am.”

Austin swallows hard, his hands flexing at his sides like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t know how. “Y/N…” His voice is quieter now, pleading.

Your chest aches, because you want him to fight for this, for you. But he doesn’t. Not really. Because he still doesn’t get it. He thinks this is just an argument, something that will blow over in a few hours. He doesn’t realise that this is you breaking. You shake your head, exhaling sharply. “Would you even notice, Austin?”

His brows knit together. “What?”

“If I left. If I really left. Would your life even be any different?” The words come out quieter than before, but they land heavier. “You already go days without seeing me, sometimes months. You forget things that matter to me. You fill every second with work until there’s no space for us anymore.”

Austin’s lips part, but no words come out.

You let out a shaky breath, gripping the strap of your bag tighter. “So tell me… if I wasn’t here when you got home tomorrow, or the next day, or the next—” your voice catches, but you push through, “—how long would it take for you to notice I was gone?”

Austin’s whole body goes still, his face paling like the weight of your words just slammed into him. He looks at you, really looks at you, and for the first time, something shifts behind his eyes—realisation, maybe. Or fear. But it’s too late.

Austin shifts, like he’s about to reach for you, but stops himself. His fingers flex at his sides, his throat working like he’s trying to say something, trying to fix this. But he doesn’t. And that’s the worst part.

You don’t wait for an answer. You turn, stepping through the door, and this time—you don’t look back. The door clicks shut behind you, sealing the silence between you. The TV still plays in the background, voices droning on, oblivious to the fact that everything just changed.

Austin

The door clicks shut. Austin doesn’t move. He just stands there, staring at the spot where you were standing seconds ago, his breath uneven, his chest tight. This isn’t the first time you’ve argued. It’s not even the first time you’ve been upset with him for missing something important. But this is the first time you left.

The realisation sinks in slowly, like a weight pressing down on his chest. His ears ring in the silence you left behind, the house suddenly too still, too empty. His eyes flick to the empty space where your bag was, the dresser drawer you left half-open in a rush. You didn’t take much. Just enough. Because you’re coming back… right? You just needed space. A night away. That’s all.

Except—

His stomach twists. That’s not what this was. Your words hit him all over again, sharp and impossible to ignore now that you’re gone.

“Would you even notice, Austin?”

He runs a hand over his face, exhaling harshly, trying to shake the uncomfortable weight settling in his chest. Of course, he would’ve noticed. He would’ve noticed. Wouldn’t he? The thought makes his stomach churn. Because if he’s being honest with himself—really honest—he doesn’t know the answer. And that’s what scares him the most.

Austin paces the bedroom, his heart hammering harder than it should. He reaches for his phone, thumb hovering over your name in his call log. He could call. He should call. But his hands feel too shaky, too unsure—and for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t know what to say. So instead, he just sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. And the silence doesn’t feel like peace. It feels like consequences.

1:24 AM

He’s still awake. The TV is playing something in the background, but he hasn’t looked at the screen once. The couch still smells like you—like your shampoo, your perfume, like the last lingering traces of your presence before you walked out the door. His phone is next to him, dark screen taunting him. He tried texting you once. Just to see if you were okay.

Austin: Where did you go?

No response. He didn’t expect one. Didn’t mean it hurt any less. His jaw clenches as he leans back against the couch, running a hand over his face. His mind keeps circling back to the same thought, the same gut-wrenching realisation that won’t let him sleep. You weren’t just mad tonight. You weren’t just frustrated about his schedule. You were done. And he didn’t see it coming. He thought you’d always understand. That you’d always be there, waiting for him, fitting yourself into the spaces he left open. But tonight, you’d finally said what he should’ve been seeing all along.

“I can’t be the only one making time for us.”

His throat tightens. Because you were right. And he was too late to fix it.

3:09 AM

Austin finally drags himself to bed. It feels wrong. The sheets are cold. The room is too quiet. He doesn’t hear you shifting beside him, doesn’t feel you stealing the covers, doesn’t hear the little sigh you always make when you roll over in your sleep. For the first time in years, he’s alone in this bed. And it’s the loneliest he’s ever felt.

His arm instinctively reaches toward your side, like muscle memory, like habit. But all he finds is empty space. His throat goes tight as he exhales, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the crushing weight of it all. He closes his eyes. He doesn’t sleep. Because this time, you’re not coming back in the morning.

Day One

You

You don’t turn your phone off, but you don’t answer it either. Not when the screen lights up with Austin’s name late at night, not when he texts you at 1:24 AM, and not when he tries again the next morning. You see them. You just can’t. You tell yourself you need time. Space. But the truth?

You don’t know if you want to hear his voice because you miss him, or because you’re waiting for him to say something different. Something that changes things. Something that proves he’s finally seen what you’ve been trying to show him for months. But deep down, you’re not sure he will. And that’s what hurts the most.

So you let the calls ring out. Let the messages sit unread. Let the silence stretch wider and heavier between you. It’s easier that way. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

Day Three

Your sister asks about him at dinner. You smile, press your lips together, and say, He’s busy with work. The lie comes so easily, so naturally, because you’ve said it so many times before. She gives you a look but doesn’t push, just nods and changes the subject. You should feel relieved. You just feel tired.

Day Five

You wake up, reach for your phone out of habit, and catch yourself before you text him. The muscle memory is still there. The instinct to share your morning, to tell him some random thought, to ask how he slept. It’s so stupid, but it stings. You don’t text him. You roll over instead, staring at the ceiling, blinking hard against the ache sitting heavy in your chest. You don’t miss him. You won’t miss him. You just need more time.

Day Seven

Austin stops calling. You tell yourself that’s a good thing. That it means you’ve finally made your point. That he’s respecting your space. But then why does it feel like the walls around you are closing in instead of opening up? Why does it feel like the silence is suffocating instead of peaceful? Why does it feel like he’s giving up instead of fighting for you? And why, for the first time, does that make you want to cry? You don’t. You won’t. You just sit there, staring at the blank screen of your phone, hands curled into your sweatshirt sleeves, wondering if he’s finally stopped waiting for you to pick up. Wondering if he’s waiting at all.

Austin

Austin stares at his phone for a long time. Your name is still sitting at the top of his call log. The last message he sent—Where did you go?—still hasn’t been opened. He wants to text you again. Wants to call, show up at your door, do something, anything to fix this. But he doesn’t know how. Because what if he’s already done too much damage? What if this isn’t just you needing time? What if this is you realising you’re better off without him? The thought settles like lead in his chest. He sets the phone down, scrubs a hand over his face, and tells himself to give you space. But that’s the problem. There’s already too much space between you. And he’s never hated it more.

Day Ten

The thing about distance is that it doesn’t stay contained. It seeps into the cracks of everything else—work, conversations, the quiet moments when you think no one is watching. And people start to notice.

You

You didn’t want to come. You almost texted to cancel—twice. But your sister insisted, and you knew if you didn’t show, she’d just keep pushing, keep pressing, until you caved anyway. So here you are, sitting across from her in a small café, picking at the sandwich you barely have the stomach for. She watches you for a while, saying nothing, sipping her drink, waiting. Then, finally—

“Alright,” she says, setting her glass down with a little more force than necessary. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on, or do I have to guess?”

Your stomach clenches. You force yourself to shrug like it’s nothing. “What do you mean?”

She gives you a look—the kind that older siblings specialize in. The kind that says I know you better than you think I do. “You didn’t talk about Austin once at dinner last week,” she points out. “And I let it go because I figured you didn’t want to make a big deal out of him missing it, but now?” She tilts her head, narrowing her eyes. “You’re different. You’re quiet. You’re here, but you’re not really here. And don’t even try to tell me it’s just stress.”

Your fingers tighten around the napkin in your lap. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Your sister exhales, like she expected you to say that, but she’s not backing down. “Fine. But just answer one thing for me.”

You force yourself to meet her eyes.

“Are you okay?”

That’s what does it. Not the questions about Austin, not the prodding, not the expectations. Just those three simple words, spoken with so much concern, so much care, that your chest goes tight, your throat burning as you try to keep it together. You look away quickly, blink hard, shake your head. “I don’t know.”

Your sister reaches across the table, resting a hand on yours. “Hey,” she says softly. “Talk to me.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, try to take a deep breath, try to push it down before it cracks you open completely. And then, before you can stop yourself— “I left.” The words barely make it out. Quiet. Shaky. Almost like you don’t believe them yet.

Your sister’s brows furrow. “You what?”

“I left,” you repeat, voice thick now. “I walked out. Packed a bag. I—” You inhale sharply, digging your nails into your palm under the table. “I don’t even know if I’m going back.”

Her lips part in surprise, but she doesn’t say anything at first. Just squeezes your hand. And that makes it worse. Because if she yelled, if she told you that you were being dramatic, if she said you were overreacting, maybe you could fight it. Maybe you could push it down. But she doesn’t. She just looks at you like she sees all of it. Like she sees you. And that’s when your eyes burn, your throat tightens even more, and you have to bite your lip to keep it together.

“Shit,” you mumble, blinking quickly. “I don’t want to cry.”

Your sister exhales softly, gives your hand another squeeze. “Then don’t.” A small, knowing smile. “Just tell me what happened instead.”

Austin

“Cut!”

Austin barely hears it. He blinks, dragging himself back into the present as the director sighs and steps forward.

“Austin, man,” he says, rubbing his temple, “you okay? That’s the third time you’ve missed the cue.”

Austin shifts on his feet, exhaling sharply. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it. Sorry.”

His co-star gives him a pointed look. “Dude. This isn’t like you.”

And it’s not. Normally, he’s on it. Locked in. Focused. But not this week. Not since you left. Not since the house started feeling like a place he just exists in instead of somewhere he belongs.

His co-star nudges him. “You need a minute?”

Austin shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair. “Nah. Let’s go again.”

Because what else is he supposed to do? Go home to an empty house? Sit in the silence? No. He needs to work. Needs to fill his time with something—because if he doesn’t, he’s going to start thinking about you again. And if he does that, he might just lose it.

Day Eleven

You

The hotel room is quiet. Too quiet. You weren’t expecting that. You booked it because you needed space—needed to be somewhere that wasn’t him, wasn’t your shared house, wasn’t full of things that reminded you of what you just walked away from. But now, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the unfamiliar beige walls, you feel like you’ve traded one kind of loneliness for another.

There’s no hum of his voice in the other room. No sound of him moving around, no half-muttered lines as he paces, practicing dialogue under his breath. No scent of his cologne lingering in the air. Just… silence. And for the first time, you wonder if you really thought this through. Not the fight. Not leaving. But this part. The part where you have to sit in it. You inhale sharply, dragging a hand through your hair. You shouldn’t miss him. You can’t. Not after everything.

But then, your phone buzzes. And there it is. His name. Your heart jumps—once, twice—before you force it down and remind yourself that this isn’t new. That he’s called before. That you haven’t answered. But this time, there’s no missed call notification. Just a message. A voice note. You stare at it for a long time. A full minute. Maybe more. Then, finally—hesitantly—you press play.

His voice fills the quiet.

“Hey.” A pause. A deep breath. “I know you probably don’t want to hear from me. And I get it. I do.”

You close your eyes at the sound of him. It’s too familiar, too much. It hits you in a way you weren’t ready for, makes the ache in your chest feel sharp and fresh instead of something you were starting to get used to.

“I, uh… I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I keep running through it in my head, trying to come up with the right words, but nothing feels good enough. Because I know I messed up. I know that. And I know you’re probably sick of hearing me say I’m sorry when I haven’t—when I haven’t done enough to prove it.”

You bite your lip, stomach twisting.

“I don’t know where your head’s at right now. I don’t know if you even want to hear me out. But I need you to know that I—I feel it, Y/N. The space. The weight of it. I don’t know if you meant for this to be permanent, but if you did… if you’re really done with me, I just—”

A beat of silence, then—he exhales, a rough, uneven sound.

“I need to hear you say it.”

Your chest tightens. Your breath catches. Because this is different. This isn’t a casual apology. This isn’t him assuming you’ll come back. This is him realising he might have already lost you. You stare at the screen for a long time after the voice note ends, your thumb hovering over the reply button. You should say something. Anything. But what if you don’t have the right words either? What if this moment—this silence—is the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely? You close your eyes. And for the first time in days, you don’t know what to do. Or worse—what if you do?

The hotel room is still too quiet. You lie on the bed, phone resting on your stomach, staring at the ceiling. The voice note ended ten minutes ago, but it still lingers in the air, hanging over you like a weight you can’t shake. Your thumb moves on its own, swiping back to the message. You hesitate—but only for a second. Then, you press play again.

“Hey.”

His voice fills the space again, soft, rough, unsure. You close your eyes.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear from me. And I get it. I do.”

Your chest tightens, fingers curling around the edge of the pillow. The words sink deeper this time. You listen all the way through, all the way to that final breath, that last plea—

“I need to hear you say it.”

The message ends. You exhale. And then— You play it again. Not because you want to, but because it’s the only thing grounding you. Because hearing him like this—uncertain, vulnerable, different—makes you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he really is starting to understand. Maybe. Your fingers hover over the keyboard. You should say something. You should. You start to type—

Austin: I—

You stop. Your heart pounds. The words don’t feel right. What are you supposed to say? That you hear him? That you’re not sure if it’s enough? That you don’t even know what you’re waiting for anymore? Your jaw clenches as you delete the message. You put the phone down. Turn it over, face-down, so you won’t be tempted. Then you roll onto your side, tuck yourself into the too-stiff hotel sheets, and let the silence swallow you whole. But the message still plays in your head. Over and over. Even when you finally fall asleep.

Austin

Austin sits in the driver’s seat of his car, parked outside the studio, staring at his phone. The message is still marked as delivered. Not read. He exhales sharply, gripping the steering wheel. She’s listening. He knows she is. But she’s not responding. And that scares him more than if she’d told him to leave her alone. Because it means she’s still deciding. And he doesn’t know if he has any time left.

He could text again. He could call. But those things feel too easy. Too impersonal. Too much like all the times he called her late, distracted, with half his attention on something else. And he refuses to do this wrong again. Flowers are useless. jewellery, gifts—none of it matters. It has to be something real. Something that proves he’s not just saying things this time. Something that makes her see—really see—that he’s not just trying to fix the fight, he’s trying to fix himself.

His fingers drum against the steering wheel. And then, it hits him. It’s not about grand gestures. It’s about the small things. The things he should have noticed before. The things she thought he forgot. He throws the car into reverse and heads home, a plan already forming in his mind. If she won’t talk to him, if she won’t answer— Then he’ll show her. Because he finally knows what to do.

Day Twelve

You

You wake up with your phone in your hand. You don’t even remember picking it up. The screen is still dark, but you don’t have to check to know that you never responded. That you played the message again. And again. And again. You groan softly, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes before dragging yourself out of bed. The hotel room is still unfamiliar, still stiff, still not home. But you remind yourself that’s the point. You shower, get dressed, tell yourself that today will be different. And then— Your phone buzzes. Your stomach lurches. You know it’s him before you even look. But when you do, it’s not a call. Not a text. Just a photo. No caption. No explanation.

Just a picture of a book—your favourite book. The one you lent him months ago, the one you thought he forgot about. It’s open, worn at the edges, with a pen resting against the spine. And the page he’s marked? It’s the page with your favourite passage. The one you told him reminded you of him. Your breath catches. Because this isn’t an apology. It’s not an I miss you, or I’m sorry, or Please come back. It’s proof. Proof that he was listening, even when you thought he wasn’t. Proof that he didn’t forget everything. You stare at the picture for a long time, heart hammering, fingers twitching to type something. But what? What does this even mean? Before you can decide, your phone buzzes again. Another photo.

This time, it’s a coffee cup. Your coffee cup. The one he always made fun of because of how chipped it was, but you refused to throw it away. And next to it? A notebook. His notebook. The one he uses to scribble ideas, to jot things down between filming, to collect the little moments he never wants to forget. And this time, there’s a message beneath the photo.

Austin: I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I need you to know that I remember. I remember everything.

Your breath catches. Because this is different. This isn’t a grand apology. This isn’t him saying all the right words. This is him showing you. Him proving it. Your fingers hover over the keyboard. You should say something. You almost do. But instead— You do the only thing you can. You close your eyes and let yourself feel it. Because for the first time in days, you’re not just thinking about what’s broken. You’re thinking about what’s still there. And you don’t know if that’s enough. But maybe—just maybe—it’s a start.

Austin

Austin sees it the moment it happens. The tiny “Read” notification under the voice note. The double checkmarks next to the photos. His heart jolts. It’s the first sign of life he’s gotten from you in twelve days. You saw them. You saw the book, the coffee cup, the notebook. You saw him trying.

But you didn’t respond. His stomach twists. It’s not rejection. Not exactly. But it’s not an answer either. And that’s almost worse. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face, staring at his phone like it holds some kind of answer. But it doesn’t. You’re still out there. Still silent. And he’s still losing you. Unless he does something more. Something real.

Austin paces his apartment, phone pressed to his ear. He doesn’t know if she’ll pick up. But after three rings—

“Why are you calling me?”

Your sister’s voice is not unkind, but not exactly warm either. Austin exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Because I don’t know what else to do.”

A pause. Then, a sigh. “Austin…”

“I’m not asking you to fix this,” he says quickly. “I know I have to fix it myself. I just—” He swallows hard. “She read my messages. But she didn’t answer. And I don’t know if that means I should keep trying or if she wants me to stop.”

Your sister is quiet for a long time. Then—“She doesn’t know either.”

Austin’s chest tightens.

“She’s still figuring it out,” she continues. “She’s not just angry, Austin. She’s… hurt. And I don’t think she’s ready to talk yet.”

He nods, even though she can’t see him. He already knew that. He just needed to hear it out loud. A long breath. “She’s at work today, isn’t she?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah,” he mutters. “I do.”

Another pause. Then—softer this time—“What are you trying to do here?”

Austin leans against the counter, gripping the edge. “I just want to give her something real. Something that’s not a text. Not a call. Just… something she can sit with. No pressure. No expectations.”

Your sister doesn’t answer immediately. Then—“If you think that’ll help, then do it. But, Austin?”

His jaw clenches. “Yeah?”

“If you’re just trying to make yourself feel better—don’t.”

The line clicks dead before he can respond. Austin exhales. And then— He grabs a pen and starts writing.

You

You’re halfway through the day when you see it. A plain white envelope sitting on your desk. No name. No label. Just waiting. You frown, glancing around, but no one seems to be paying attention. With hesitant fingers, you pick it up. Turn it over. There, scrawled in his familiar handwriting—

For when you’re ready.

Your breath catches. You swallow, pulse thrumming in your ears, fingers tightening around the paper. For when you’re ready. Not if. When. The weight of it sits heavy in your hands. Because you don’t know if you are. But you know you want to be. And maybe that’s enough. For now.

The envelope sits untouched on your desk. You haven’t opened it. Not because you don’t want to—because you do. You can feel the weight of it, heavier than it should be, as if whatever he wrote inside carries more than just words. It carries him. And right now, you’re not sure if you can handle that.

You glance around the office, fingers tapping against the envelope’s edge. The room is buzzing—keyboards clicking, quiet voices on calls, the occasional burst of laughter from a coworker’s desk.

You should be focusing. You should be working. But your mind is somewhere else. Your eyes drift to the shelf beside you, where a single copy of a familiar book sits. The book that started all of this.

The adaptation. The reason you met him in the first place. You remember those first few months—late-night meetings, frantic emails between agents and producers, the stress of making sure the story stayed intact while Hollywood shaped it into something new.

You remember when he started sitting in on meetings, not just as the lead actor, but as a producer. You remember how he would lean back in his chair, listening to every conversation, scribbling notes in the margins of the script. You remember thinking: He cares about this. And maybe that was the first time you really saw him. Now, you wonder if he still has that script. If he ever looks at the notes he made. If he even remembers what he wrote in the margins.

Your fingers tighten around the envelope. Austin remembers things when they matter. That’s what makes this so hard. Because for a long time, you weren’t sure if he did. You glance down at the handwriting on the front.

For when you’re ready.

Not please read this. Not I need you to understand. Just when. Like he knows you might not be there yet. Like he’s finally learning that this isn’t on his timeline anymore. You swallow, thumb brushing the flap of the envelope. You could open it now. You could get it over with. But instead—

You tuck it into your bag, right beside your notebook, and turn back to your work. Because right now, you need to be you. Not the girl waiting for an answer. Not the girl wondering what he wrote. Just you. And if that means waiting a little longer, then that’s what you’ll do. For now.

Austin

Austin sits in his car, hands gripping the steering wheel, eyes flicking to his phone for the tenth time in the past five minutes. Nothing. No text. No call. No read receipt. And maybe that’s worse. Because at least if she ignored it—if he knew she threw it away—he’d have his answer. But now? Now, he doesn’t know. Doesn’t know if she read it. Doesn’t know if she tucked it away in a drawer, or if it’s still sitting on her desk, unopened. Doesn’t know if she’s waiting for the right moment, or if there isn’t one at all. He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. He’s done all he can. The rest is up to her. But waiting? Waiting feels like hell.

You

The envelope sits on the hotel nightstand. You’ve been ignoring it for hours. You told yourself you wouldn’t open it tonight. That you’d wait. That you’d at least give yourself another day, maybe two. But the longer it sits there, the more it feels like it’s staring at you. Like it knows you’ve already made up your mind.

You sigh, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes before finally reaching for it. Your fingers hesitate at the edge of the flap. You should wait, you tell yourself, fingers gripping the envelope. Just one more night. But deep down, you know that’s a lie. Because if you really wanted to wait— You wouldn’t still be holding it.

You tear it open. The handwriting is his—the same messy scrawl you’ve seen on script pages, on post-it notes left around the apartment, on birthday cards written at the last second but always signed with something that made you laugh. This time, it’s different. This time, it’s careful.

Y/N,

I don’t know if you’re ready to read this. I don’t even know if you ever will. But I need to say it anyway.

I know words aren’t enough. I know I’ve said “I’m sorry” before, and I know it probably doesn’t mean much when I haven’t done enough to show it. So this isn’t an apology. It’s a promise. A promise that I see it now. I see you.

I see the space I left for too long. The nights you waited. The conversations you never got because I was too distracted, too focused on everything else. The way you held us together when I should have been holding you, too.

I don’t know when it started—when I started expecting you to wait for me instead of meeting you halfway. When I started thinking “later” was enough, without realising that every “later” made you feel like less of a priority.

I never wanted that. And I know now that wanting isn’t enough. I don’t want you to come back just because I miss you. I want you to come back because you believe I won’t make you feel like this again.

I want to be better. For you. For us.

But only if you still want us, too. If you don’t, I’ll let you go. But if there’s even a chance—just a small one—then I’ll wait.

I’ll wait for when you’re ready.

Austin

Your breath catches. You read it again. And again. And again. The paper trembles slightly in your hands, but you’re not sure if it’s from the weight of the words or the weight of everything you’ve been holding in for days.

Because this is different. This isn’t a desperate plea. This isn’t him asking you to come back right now. This is him finally listening. Finally seeing you. You inhale sharply, pressing the letter to your chest, closing your eyes. You’re not ready to respond. Not yet. But for the first time since you walked away— You think maybe, just maybe, you could be.

Day Fourteen

You

You don’t throw it away. You don’t leave it behind on the nightstand, don’t tuck it away in a drawer to forget about it. Instead, you carry it with you. It stays folded in your bag, buried beneath your notebook and keys, its presence subtle but impossible to ignore. You tell yourself you won’t read it again. But every night, when the hotel room is too quiet, when the weight of the silence feels heavier than it should—you do. You unfold the paper, smooth out the creases, and let your eyes trace over the same words, over and over again.

I see you.

I don’t know when I started expecting you to wait for me instead of meeting you halfway.

I’ll wait for when you’re ready.

You don’t know why you keep reading it. Maybe you’re looking for something you missed the first time. Maybe you’re trying to convince yourself that it doesn’t mean as much as it does. Or maybe—just maybe—you’re not ready to let it go yet. And that? That scares you more than anything.

It’s been two days. Austin hasn’t sent anything else. No texts, no voice notes, no calls. And you should feel relieved. You should feel like this space is yours now, that he’s finally respecting the silence you needed. But instead—you just feel the weight of it.

You stare at your phone for what feels like forever. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, hesitating. There’s so much you could say. You could tell him you’ve read the letter a hundred times. You could tell him you still don’t know what you want. You could tell him you miss him. You could tell him you don’t. But instead— You type two words.

I read it.

And then you hit send. No explanation. No decision. Just an acknowledgment. Because that’s all you have to give right now. And for the first time in days, you finally exhale.

Austin

Austin is half-asleep on the couch when his phone buzzes. He almost doesn’t check it. Almost lets it sit there, unread, like every other silence-filled moment of the past two weeks. But then— His breath catches. Your name. Your message.

I read it.

That’s it. Nothing else. His grip tightens around the phone, his heart hammering harder than it should. Because it’s not an answer. It’s not a promise. But it’s not goodbye either. And right now, that’s enough.

The House

You

You check the time before stepping out of the car. He’s not home. You made sure of it. The key feels heavy in your hand as you slide it into the lock, the metal clicking softly in the quiet. The door creaks open. And just like that—you’re back.

The air inside feels too still. Like the house has been waiting, holding its breath. Your breath is shaky as you step inside. The kitchen light is off. The living room looks exactly the same. It smells the same. Your chest tightens. You don’t know why you came. For your things? Maybe. To see what it felt like being here? Probably.

You take slow steps through the space, feeling the absence of him in every corner. Your coffee mug is still on the counter. A book you left on the couch weeks ago is exactly where you last put it. One of his jackets is draped over the chair, like he hasn’t moved it since you left. Like he doesn’t want to. Your fingers ghost over the fabric, your throat tightening. This house still holds you. Still remembers you. But do you still belong here? You don’t have an answer. Not yet. You swallow, shake yourself out of it, and head to the bedroom. Because this isn’t about him. This is about you. And right now, you just need to breathe.

The bedroom feels even heavier than the rest of the house. Your side of the bed is still untouched. Drawers still half-filled with your things. You hesitate before stepping further inside. This was supposed to be easy. Get what you need, leave. But now that you’re here, it doesn’t feel easy at all. Your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag as you move toward the dresser, pulling open the drawers. A sweater. A few shirts. The book you kept on the nightstand. Nothing that matters too much. Nothing that would make this feel permanent.

Your hands still as you pick up a small piece of paper tucked under a bracelet you left behind. It’s a post-it note. His handwriting—messy, scrawled in a rush.

You were right. I should’ve come to bed.

Your breath catches. It’s from a night months ago, when you’d fallen asleep alone after waiting up for him. You don’t realise how tight your grip on it is until you hear the unmistakable jingle of keys in the front door. Your stomach plummets. Austin. He’s home.

No, no, no—he’s not supposed to be home. You planned this, timed this, made sure there was no way you’d run into him. You’re not ready. Your pulse kicks into overdrive, heart slamming against your ribs as you move on instinct, backing toward the closet like you can somehow disappear into it. Maybe he’ll go straight to the kitchen. Maybe he won’t even come in here. Except—

You hear it. That moment of hesitation. The way the front door doesn’t close right away. Like he knows. Like he can feel it. Like something in the air tells him that he’s not alone.

Footsteps. Slow. Careful. Getting closer.

Your breath is caught in your throat as you grip the strap of your bag, backing toward the other door—the one that leads to the bathroom, to the hallway, to a possible escape. You could slip out before he even makes it in here. You could still get away. And then—

The bedroom door swings open. Austin stops dead in his tracks. The silence between you is instant, deafening. His keys are still in his hand. His breath stills, his whole body going rigid at the sight of you, like he thinks if he moves too fast, you’ll vanish.

Your chest is tight. Too tight. This was never supposed to happen like this.

His gaze drags over you, landing on the bag slung over your shoulder, the sweater in your arms. His throat works as he swallows, trying to catch up to the reality of you standing here. Here, in this space, in his space.

“…You came back.”

It’s barely a whisper. Barely a breath. Not an assumption. Not an accusation. Just—shock. You don’t know what to say. Because you don’t know if you came back. You just came.

Your grip tightens on the strap of your bag, and that tiny movement—that small, almost imperceptible shift—is what makes Austin blink, like the spell has broken, like he’s realising what’s actually happening.

That you’re leaving. Again. His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t block your path. Doesn’t try to reach for you.

“…I didn’t think I’d see you.” His voice is hoarse, quieter than you expected. “Not yet.”

You lick your lips, shifting slightly. You should say something. Anything. Make this less awkward, less painful. But your chest is too tight, your throat too full of everything you’re still not sure of.

So you just nod.

Austin watches you for a long moment. Too long. His eyes flick to your bag again, like he’s trying to memorize every last thing you’re taking with you. Like he thinks it matters. Like he doesn’t realise that what you’re leaving behind is heavier.

Your throat tightens. You should go. You should walk past him, step through that door, and let this moment stay exactly what it is—brief. Necessary. Over. But your feet don’t move. Not yet.

Austin exhales softly, like he’s been holding his breath this whole time, like he’s afraid anything too sudden might shatter whatever fragile thing exists between you right now. His fingers twitch at his side, but he doesn’t reach for you. Doesn’t try to stop you. But his eyes—they hold you still. The same way they did the night you walked away. Only now, there’s no frustration, no sharp edge of disbelief. Only quiet knowing. Like he finally understands. Like he finally sees you.

You blink fast, swallowing against the burn in your throat. This is already too much. Too much history in a single breath, too much of him in the walls, in the air, in the way your body still knows this space like it’s home. You shift your grip on the bag, adjusting the strap over your shoulder. Say something. You don’t even know what, but the thought of walking out without a word—without acknowledging that this moment is nothing like the last—feels unbearable. So, you exhale slowly and say, “I don’t know how to do this.”

Austin’s jaw clenches, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t rush to fill the silence. Just listens. Neither of you moves. Neither of you breathes. Then, quietly—like it’s the most honest thing he’s ever said—Austin murmurs, “Me either.”

Your chest tightens. Because that’s the truth, isn’t it? Neither of you knows what comes next. But for the first time, you’re both willing to find out.

The air shifts, thick with hesitation, with unspoken things, with the fragile hope that maybe this doesn’t have to be as impossible as it feels. Austin swallows hard, glancing down at the bag in your hand. Then, softly—so softly you almost miss it—he says, “You don’t have to go.”

You inhale sharply. He doesn’t say Stay. Doesn’t push. Doesn’t beg. Just lets you decide. Your fingers tighten around the strap, heart hammering. This is it. This is the moment.

You meet his gaze, searching, trying to figure out if you’re ready. And maybe you’re not. Maybe you still need time. Maybe you still need space. But you’re tired of running.

So instead of walking past him, instead of brushing past him like a ghost in the place you used to share, you shift your weight from one foot to the other and say, quietly— “Do you have time to talk?”

Austin exhales sharply, like he wasn’t expecting it. His hand flexes at his side, like he’s resisting the urge to reach for you, but his answer is immediate. “Yeah. Of course.”

The words are hoarse, barely above a whisper, but they hold everything.

You nod slowly, licking your lips. The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy with everything unsaid, with everything that’s been simmering in the spaces between you for weeks. Then, softer—“Now?”

Austin swallows, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to figure out if you really mean it. If this is really happening. “…Yeah,” he says again. “Now.”

You shift your grip on the bag, feeling its weight in your hands. You could still leave. You could still walk out the door, keep the distance between you, let this be another almost. But you’re here. And so is he. And for the first time, neither of you is running.

So, slowly, carefully—you let the strap slide from your shoulder, let the bag drop to the floor with a soft thud.

Austin’s gaze flickers to it, then back to you. He doesn’t move, doesn’t push. Just waits.

You inhale deeply, wrapping your arms around yourself, grounding yourself in this moment. “I don’t know where to start,” you admit, voice quiet, uncertain.

Austin nods, like he understands that. Like he’s been waiting for this conversation, but he��s just as unsure of how to navigate it as you are. Then, carefully—“Start anywhere.”

The room is too still. The weight of this is too much. But you’re here. And so is he. And maybe—just maybe—that’s enough.

Austin

He barely breathes as he watches the bag slip from your shoulder, hitting the floor with a quiet thud. You’re not walking out. Not yet. His pulse pounds in his ears as he forces himself not to move, not to reach for you—not to ruin this.

“I don’t know where to start,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

Austin exhales slowly. He doesn’t push, doesn’t rush. “Start anywhere.”

For a moment, it feels like you might take it back. Like the weight of the moment is too much, like it might swallow you whole before you get the words out. Then—finally—you step past him, sinking down onto the edge of the bed.

Austin follows carefully, sitting a few feet away, hands clasped between his knees. The space between you isn’t as wide as it was two weeks ago. But it’s still not where it used to be. And that’s on him.

You don’t speak at first. Just stare at your hands, breathing slowly, deliberately. Austin keeps his eyes on you, waiting, letting you decide how this goes. Then, finally—your voice is quiet, but it doesn’t waver. “Did you really not see it before?”

Austin’s chest tightens. He knew that was coming. And he doesn’t have a good answer. So he tells you the truth. “I think I did.” His throat works. “I just… I told myself it wasn’t that bad.”

Your eyes flick up to his, sharp. “That bad?”

“No—” he exhales, shaking his head. “I mean—God, I don’t know. I thought you were okay. I thought… I thought we’d be fine.”

You let out a breathless, humourless laugh.

“Austin, I told you.” Your voice shakes slightly, but it’s frustration, not uncertainty. “I told you so many times.”

“I know.” His hands press together, fingers tightening against his palms. “I know you did.”

Silence stretches. Then—softer now. “So why didn’t you listen?”

Austin closes his eyes for a second. Because I didn’t want to believe I was failing you. Because I kept telling myself I had time. Because I didn’t realise I was running out of it until you were gone. But none of that is enough. So he looks at you—really looks at you—and finally says the one thing he should have said weeks ago. “Because I was selfish.”

Your breath catches.

Austin keeps going before you can stop him. “Because I let myself believe that as long as you were still here, everything was okay.” His voice is rough now, raw. “Because I was too caught up in everything else to see what it was doing to you. Because I thought—” He swallows hard, shakes his head. “I thought you wouldn’t leave.”

You don’t say anything. And that’s worse. Because now you’re really looking at him. Now you’re seeing the full weight of what he’s saying, what he’s admitting to. And it hurts. For both of you.

The silence is thick, heavy, pressing in around him like it might crush him completely. Then, finally—soft, hesitant— “I didn’t want to.”

Austin’s breath catches. You don’t look at him when you say it, eyes still locked on your hands, fingers twisting together in your lap.

“I didn’t want to leave.” You exhale shakily. “But I didn’t know what else to do.”

Austin’s chest aches. Physically aches. Because he gets it now. Really, truly gets it. You left because you had to. Because he left you no other choice. And fuck. That’s on him.

The air is too thick, too fragile, too much. Carefully, cautiously, he shifts closer. Not enough to crowd you, not enough to push. Just enough. His hands twitch against his thighs, but he doesn’t reach for you. Not yet.

“I know.” His voice is quiet. “And I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like you had to.”

Your shoulders drop slightly, just barely. Like maybe you believe him. Like maybe—just maybe—this is the start of something new. Something better.

Austin exhales slowly. Then—soft, careful, giving you the space to decide— “Can we try to figure this out?”

The silence between you stretches, long and uncertain. Austin’s hands flex against his thighs, his heart hammering as he waits for something. For a word. A nod. A sigh. For any sign that you’re not walking away again. But he doesn’t say anything else. He’s too busy seeing you. Really seeing you. And it guts him.

You look tired. Not just physically—though that’s there, too. Your frame looks a little smaller, like you haven’t been eating properly. There are faint shadows under your eyes, proof that sleep hasn’t come easy. But it’s more than that. It’s in the way you carry yourself—shoulders tense, fingers curled slightly into your sweater, like you’re holding something in. Like you’re holding yourself together. And the worst part?

He did this to you. He made you feel like you had to leave. Like he wasn’t paying enough attention. And now that he is—now that he finally sees the weight of it? It’s unbearable.

His chest tightens as you shift slightly, fingers twisting together in your lap, like you’re still trying to decide if this conversation is worth having.

“I don’t know how to fix this.” Your voice is soft, but steady. “I don’t know if we can.”

Austin exhales slowly, nodding. “Then let’s not think about fixing it.” His throat works as he swallows. “Let’s just talk.”

Your lips press together. You nod, but there’s still hesitation in your eyes, like you don’t trust that this won’t fall apart again. And Austin can’t blame you. He let you down. So he doesn’t rush. Doesn’t push. He just leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “What do you need to hear from me?”

You inhale sharply, like you weren’t expecting that. Like you weren’t expecting him to ask. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your sweater. “I don’t know.”

But you do. Austin sees it in the way your shoulders tense. Sees it in the way your mouth parts slightly, like you almost said something but held back. So he waits. Because this time? He’s listening.

You let out a slow breath. “I need to know that it’s not always going to be like this.”

Austin nods, absorbing the weight of that. Because it’s not just about this fight. It’s not just about one missed dinner. It’s about all of it. The late nights. The cancelled plans. The empty promises. The slow, painful erosion of what you used to be. His chest aches.

“It won’t be.” His voice is firm, no hesitation. “I know I can’t just say that and expect you to believe me, but—” He exhales. “I don’t want to be the person who makes you feel like this.”

Your eyes flick up to his. Finally. And something in them shifts. It’s not forgiveness. Not yet. But it’s something. Austin holds onto it.

“I let everything else take up so much space that I didn’t leave enough for you.” He shakes his head, jaw tightening. “And I hate that. I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t—” His voice catches. He swallows hard. “Like you weren’t the most important thing to me.”

You flinch, just barely. Like that’s the part that really hit.

Austin runs a hand through his hair. “Because you are. You always have been.”

Your throat works as you swallow, blinking fast, like you’re trying to hold something back. And fuck. That hurts. Because he did this. He made you feel like you had to fight for space in his life.

Austin lets out a shaky breath. “I know I have to prove that to you. I know words aren’t enough.”

Your lips part slightly, but you don’t speak.

So he does. “But I want to.” His voice is rough, full of something raw and real. “I want to prove it. I just need to know if I still have the chance to.”

Silence.

Your fingers tighten around the edge of your sweater. You look away, blinking hard, your jaw clenching like you’re fighting something back. And then—so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it—

“I don’t know.”

Austin’s chest tightens. He nods slowly, absorbing it. Because that’s not a no. It’s not over. It’s just… unknown. And that? That’s more than he deserves. He won’t push you for more. Not yet.

So instead, he leans back slightly, letting the tension settle, and then—softly, carefully— “Do you want to stay?”

You inhale sharply, your eyes flicking up to his, wide and uncertain.

He doesn’t rush to fill the silence. He waits.

You stare at him for a long moment, breathing slow and deep, like you’re testing the weight of the question. Then, finally—you shake your head.

Austin’s fingers twitch at his sides like he’s about to reach forward, about to do something—but then he stops himself. Instead of rushing, instead of trying to take control, he lets the moment be yours. His hands flex, then fall still.

“Okay.” His voice is steady, but the tightness in his throat is impossible to ignore. Because this? This is the part where you leave again. But then—

You shift. And before he can react—you stand. Your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag, but you don’t move to leave right away. You hesitate.

Austin watches, heart pounding, as you stare at the floor for a long second, your lips pressed together like you’re weighing something. And then— You look at him. Really look at him.

And fuck, whatever you see there—whatever’s written all over his face, in his eyes—it makes yours shine too. You sniff once, barely, shaking your head at yourself, at this, at all of it. Then—as you step past him—

Your fingers brush against his hand. A whisper of contact. Soft. Fleeting. But deliberate. But fuck. It wrecks him. Because it means something.

You move past him slowly, not rushing, not running. And right before you reach the door, you murmur—so quiet it almost disappears into the air between you—

“I’ll think about it.”

Austin exhales sharply, his hands flexing at his sides. He closes his eyes. Okay. Okay. Because that’s not a no. And for now? For now, that’s enough.

You

The drive back to the hotel feels different this time. Not lighter, exactly—but less impossible. You still don’t have answers. You still don’t know what comes next. But for the first time, the uncertainty doesn’t feel like something you need to run from.

You pull into the parking lot, turn off the engine, and just sit there. The weight of the evening lingers in your chest, in your hands, in the faint echo of Austin’s voice still looping in your mind.

"I don’t want to be the person who makes you feel like this."

"I want to prove it. I just need to know if I still have the chance to."

You believe that he meant it. And maybe—just maybe—you want to give him the chance to prove it. Your fingers hover over your phone screen, hesitating. So many things you could say. So many things you want to say. But in the end, you keep it simple.

You: Thank you for listening tonight.

Your heart pounds. Then—after a beat—another message.

You: I meant what I said. I’m thinking about it.

You press send. And instead of second-guessing it, instead of holding your breath, you put the phone down and let yourself breathe.

Austin

Austin’s phone buzzes from where it sits on the coffee table. For a second, he doesn’t move. He’s been sitting here, staring at nothing, trying to process everything. The way you looked at him. The way your fingers brushed against his. The way you stayed—even if only for a little while. He doesn’t let himself hope. Not really. Because hope is dangerous. Hope is what made him blind when you were slipping away. But then—his phone screen lights up.

Your name. His stomach twists as he picks it up, thumbs shaky as he unlocks the screen.

You: Thank you for listening tonight.

Austin exhales sharply. And then—another message.

You: I meant what I said. I’m thinking about it.

Something settles deep in his chest. Not relief. Not yet. But something real. He doesn’t rush to reply. Doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. Doesn’t want to make you feel like this is another weight pressing down on you. So he types only what he means.

Austin: Take your time.

Austin: I meant what I said, too.

He hits send and leans back, running a hand over his face. The silence in the apartment still lingers. But it doesn’t feel as suffocating as it did before. Because for the first time in weeks—he knows you’re still there. And that means everything.

You

You wake up the next morning without hesitation sitting on your chest. It’s not clarity exactly. You’re not suddenly sure of everything. But something feels… lighter. You glance at your phone—the texts are still there. Austin’s words, waiting.

Austin: Take your time.

Austin: I meant what I said, too.

You read them again. Not overthinking, not analysing—just letting them be. And then—without letting yourself second-guess it— You type out your next message.

You: Do you have time to see me tomorrow?

You hesitate for just a second— Then hit send.

Austin

Austin almost doesn’t check his phone. He’s been forcing himself not to wait. Not to obsess over whether you’ll respond. But when he picks it up and sees your name? His breath catches. Your message is short. Simple.

You: Do you have time to see me tomorrow?

Austin lets out a shaky breath. This is it. Not a fix. Not a resolution. But a choice. You want to see him. He types fast, hands a little too unsteady.

Austin: Yeah. Anytime. Just tell me when and where.

He stares at the screen, waiting, pulse pounding. Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then—

You: I’ll come over after work.

His chest tightens. Not with nerves, not with fear—just with something that feels a little like hope. He grips his phone a little tighter. Then—his final reply.

Austin: I’ll be here.

You

Austin is already at the door when you step onto the porch. He must’ve seen your car pull up. For a second, he just looks at you. Like he’s bracing himself. Like he doesn’t want to scare you off. You exhale slowly. "Hi."

Austin nods. "Hey."

Neither of you moves at first. Yesterday had been an accident—timing you hadn’t planned for. But this? This is a choice. You shift on your feet. "Can I come in?"

His throat bobs. "Yeah, of course."

He steps aside, letting you pass, and the second you do—it’s different. There’s no rushing this time. No pressure. Just the weight of everything still sitting between you.

Austin gestures toward the couch. "Do you wanna sit?"

You hesitate, then nod. "Yeah."

It feels weird at first. Sitting together again. But it also feels necessary. The silence lingers as you both settle in. Austin leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped. You tuck your legs up, pulling your sleeves over your hands. Not avoiding. Just gathering yourself. Then—finally—you clear your throat.

"I meant what I said," you murmur.

Austin turns slightly. "Which part?"

You take a slow breath. "That I don’t know how to do this."

Austin nods slowly, like he understands. "We don’t have to know. We just have to try."

Your throat tightens. That’s all he’s asking for. For you to try.

Your fingers tighten in your sleeves. "You say that now. But what about later? When things get busy again? When work takes over? When things start to pile up?" You swallow hard. "What if this happens all over again?"

Austin exhales, running a hand through his hair. "It won’t."

"Austin—"

"Because I know what it feels like to lose you now.” His voice is quiet, but certain. “And I won’t let that happen again.”

You blink fast, heart hammering. Austin watches you carefully, not moving, not pushing. You notice the signs of exhaustion in his face.

"You look tired," he murmurs. "Thinner." His jaw tightens. "Like you haven’t been eating properly."

Your chest aches. Because he’s right. "I could say the same about you," you whisper.

Austin huffs out something that isn’t quite a laugh. Just a broken sound in the space between you. "I don’t want to do this without you," he admits. "Any of it. The good, the bad—I don’t want to go through any of it without you, Y/N."

Your chest tightens. Your fingers curl into your sleeves. It would be so easy to just say yes. To fall back into him. But you need to be sure. You need to hear him say it.

“And when things get hard?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. “When work is all-consuming, when you’re exhausted, when you’re stretched thin—how do I know I won’t become the thing that gets pushed aside again?”

Austin leans in slightly, eyes locked on yours. "You won’t."

The certainty in his voice shakes something loose in your chest. A deep breath shudders out of you. Because you believe him. But do you trust him?

Austin must see the hesitation flicker across your face, because then—softly, cautiously—he asks the question that changes everything.

“Come home.”

Your breath catches. Your heart stumbles. His expression is open, raw, unguarded. He’s giving you the choice. But the thing is… You already made it. Your fingers tighten at your sides, lips parting as you finally let yourself feel it. The relief. The love. The truth.

Austin must see the flicker of something in your expression, because he asks carefully—"Do you have your stuff in the car?"

A pause. Then, finally— You nod.

Austin exhales, blinking fast like he wasn’t expecting that. He nods once. "Then stay."

The words settle into the space between you. Your pulse kicks up. Because this? This isn’t running. This is choosing. Choosing to stay. Choosing to try. You let out a breath.

Maybe things wouldn’t be perfect right away. Maybe they’d have to work at this every single day. But wasn’t that what love was? And wasn’t he worth it? You take a breath. Then—so softly it’s almost a whisper— "Okay."

Austin closes his eyes for a second. When he opens them again—there’s something lighter there. Something hopeful. Something real. And this time, when you stand—it’s not to leave.

Three Months Later

You

The morning light filters softly through the bedroom curtains, casting a golden hue across the sheets. Your sheets. Because this is home again.

Austin stirs beside you, still deep in sleep, his arm draped loosely across your waist. He’s always been a heavy sleeper, but these days, he sleeps better. He told you that last week—muttered it against your skin after pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder.

"I sleep better with you here."

And you believe him.

You carefully slip out from under his arm, padding into the kitchen, the familiar morning routine settling into place. Coffee brewing. Toast popping up. The quiet hum of the city outside. It’s different than it was before—you both are—but in the best way.

There are small changes, subtle shifts in the way you and Austin navigate each other now.

Like the sticky notes on the fridge—reminders he leaves just for you. "Pick up more oat milk?" and "Don’t forget your lunch!" and "You looked really pretty this morning. Just saying."

Like the way he calls in the afternoons now, even if it’s just to say hi.

Like the way he asks, "Do you need me to slow down?" instead of assuming you’ll always be there waiting.

And the thing is—you don’t need him to slow down. Because now, he makes space for you. For both of you.

You settle onto the couch with your coffee, scrolling absently through an email about an upcoming adaptation pitch. Work had been hard for a while—your mind too tangled with everything that happened. But now, you’re finding your rhythm again.

A rustling from the bedroom, then the soft shuffle of bare feet on the floor. Austin appears in the doorway, sleep-rumpled—a sight that still makes your chest tighten in the best way.

“You left me,” he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes.

You smirk over your coffee. “You were snoring.”

Austin groans, flopping onto the couch beside you, his head dropping into your lap. “I don’t snore.”

“You do. Loudly.”

His lips curve against your thigh. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You roll your eyes, fingers instinctively threading through his hair. He leans into the touch like he always does, his hand resting lazily on your knee, fingers tracing absent patterns against your skin. For a moment, you just sit there in the quiet, his breathing even, your hand in his hair, your heart full.

Then—softly, sleepily—he murmurs, “You’re happy?”

Your fingers still for a second. And then you smile. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I am.”

Austin exhales, his fingertips grazing slow circles against your knee. “Good,” he murmurs. “Me too.”

And with that, he closes his eyes again. And you? You just sit there, watching him, knowing that this time—this love—is here to stay.

Taglist:

@thefallofthedamned @saturnsdaughtr @bellesdreamyprofile

DM or comment if you would like to be tagged.